


The road may be long but the company is not that bad

by kirinokisu



Series: Roads [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13369410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirinokisu/pseuds/kirinokisu
Summary: How Kuroo Tetsurou found out that he played volleyball, Tsukishima did not know. But there he was, smirking in front of Tsukishima’s desk, daring him to join the club.(Alternatively: For high school, Tsukishima Kei goes to Nekoma. Joining the volleyball club was not the plan. Neither was having feelings.)





	1. A single step

**Author's Note:**

> What happened is this: I was rewatching the training camp episodes (for, like, 100th time but shh I don’t have an obsession) when Karasuno’s opinions about Tsukishima And His Issues made me, not for the first time, think of Tsukishima with another captain, in another team. How would he develop there? Without Hinata? Without Yamaguchi? And seeing as I am a certified kurotsuki addict, Nekoma was the only choice, really.
> 
> (And because I am also a certified bokuaka addict, they will be getting a little bit of story time, too. It doesn't take just one team to raise Tsukishima Kei.)
> 
> As for how this turned into an abo fic… I honestly have no idea. And to be honest this isn’t the abo dynamic I wanted to play with, but… Eh, there's more fics to write, I guess. Not that I already started writing that one, of course not, haha.

Kei got assaulted on his third day of high school.

“No,” he said with certain finality. Because if there was one thing he was absolutely sure he did not want to do, it was to join the volleyball club.

The captain of said club leaned back, bracing his arms against the desk in front of Kei’s. It was lunch time, so the classroom was almost empty. But those who did remain were not very subtle about the looks they kept sneaking at the alpha.

It made sense, of course. Nekoma team was nowhere near the strongest in Tokyo, but it was known. Especially now that the old coach had returned and put the stop to the steady decline. Some even speculated they might make it to nationals this year.

The glances could also be attributed to Kuroo Tetsurou being ridiculously handsome despite the atrocious bed hair and exuding the kind of easy confidence that was attractive rather than oppressive. Subjected to it, Kei had to stop his hands from curling into fists when the alpha just kept looking at him, full lips curled up in faint amusement. “And why not?”

Kei gave him the most dazzling fake smile he could manage. “Kuroo-san, don’t you know? Omegas have no place in sports. It is a simple fact.”

“What I know is that you are tall and you know how to play.”

“Look around. Plenty of alphas are tall. Surely most of them also have enough brain cells to learn the rules? And if they can’t… Well, brute force always seems to work for your kind.”

Whatever reaction Kei had been expecting from the insult, it hadn’t been Kuroo letting out an easy laugh. “I’m sure it does. But unlike you, I’m not very concerned with secondary genders.”

Of course he wasn’t. He was an alpha, after all. But saying that out loud would have meant admitting things Kei barely acknowledged in the safe confines of his own mind, so he bit his tongue. “You’re not very concerned with the fact that I have no interest in joining your team either. My, what an alpha you are, truly.”

“So you’ve said. But is that the truth?” Pushing up from the desk, offensive sheet of paper still in hand, Kuroo leaned closer; close enough that he must have felt Kei’s sharp intake of breath. “Or could it be that you’re afraid?”

Kei sneered. “Of alphas?”

“Of being weaker than us.”

Rage bubbled inside him, scalding and familiar. Viciously, Kei forced is back. Silenced it with an annoyed click of his tongue and a condescending tilt of his chin.

Naturally, Kuroo ignored all of it. “Instead of proving that omegas have no place in sports as you’re doing right now, why not prove that you can stand on equal footing with strongest of alphas by joining, hmmm?” His smile was dangerously knowing as he slid the club application form between Kei’s elbows on the desk. “Unless, of course, you think you can’t.”

Kuroo left the same way he came: ridiculously graceful and silent on his feet despite obvious slouching. Once the door slid close behind him, Kei looked down at the blank lines on a white sheet of paper.

His nails bit painfully into his palms.

He had thought he had left it all behind. That he had come to peace with his ambition, readjusted it according to the stark awakening reality. He had been so sure his childish foolish dreams had been left behind, crushed brutally then locked away in his past. He had thought that after Akiteru…

He had thought many things after Akiteru.

But, apparently, when challenged, none of those things mattered.

_Damn you, Kuroo Tetsurou._

Because few moments later, he picked a pen and started writing.

 

-

 

That stupid impulsive decision haunted Kei all the way home, nagged at him throughout dinner, during which he studiously ignored the concerned looks from his mother who must’ve scented something, and snagged his attention away from homework. He even considered sneaking into the teachers’ office in the middle of the night to steal the damn form he’d dropped there after school. Then he sadly remembered the look on his homeroom teacher’s face and knew that with paperwork magically missing, he would be approached with questions like, “Were you bullied into quitting, Tsukishima-kun?” and “Do you want me to talk to the coaches?” and that was so not worth it.

Being an omega _sucked._ Good thing he was used to it.

“Tsukki?”

Kei’s attention snapped to his phone screen, where his best friend was patiently waiting for his inner crisis to be over.

Yamaguchi was what Kei missed most about Sendai.

Tsukishima family had moved to Tokyo a few months back, after Kei’s father got a job offer he would have been a fool to refuse. It took some travelling back and forth, that with Kei finishing junior high and a new fiscal year starting, but now their old house in Miyagi had finally been sold and they were slowly settling into the new one. Adjusting to the city life, including long commutes to school in rush hours, had been easy.

Adjusting to the life without Yamaguchi’s physical presence in it was not.

Kei felt it especially keenly that evening.

Their communication had become fully virtual. Frequent messages throughout the day, keeping each other entertained and updated. Today Yamaguchi had told him, nervous and fidgeting visibly from it, that he had joined Karasuno volleyball team. The same one Akiteru had gone to, had lied about, was forced to quit. So it was in order to stop the alpha from a potential heart attack at the age of fifteen that Tsukishima told him about joining Nekoma.

Yamaguchi’s entire freckled face lit up. “…oh!”

Before Yamaguchi could ask any questions about the team, or worse, Kei’s _feelings_ about it, Kei said, “You done with the last exercise?”

They’d been in the middle of doing English when Yamaguchi’s confession interrupted things. This had become a sort of routine, after Yamaguchi had had a mild panic attack on the first day of school. Having been accepted into college prep class, he had become frustratingly certain he would fail. Since Kei was doing college prep too, he suggested joint study sessions, the same ones they had always had back in Miyagi. Yamaguchi grasped at the chance with alpha intensity and so video chats after dinner had become a daily thing.

Kei, for his part, felt grateful, even if he would never admit it out loud, to anyone. Yamaguchi’s chatter made the world, ironically, quiet. Listening to him, Kei felt at peace. Maybe it was alpha pheromones; Yamaguchi might never learn how to act like he was one, but nature was nature, and a part of Kei had always been aware of that.

It helped that Yamaguchi knew when to be silent, too.

Or, he did _sometimes._

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi said again, just as Kei hovered his finger over the hang up button, both having finished their assignments for the day. “I’m really glad. That you decided to do volleyball again, I mean.”

Kei ended the call without another word.

Of course Yamaguchi would be glad, Kei thought, slipping his headphones on as he laid down on his bed. He was there when Kei had witnessed his brother’s moment of shame and humiliation. And that was _after_ he’d heard Kei repeat all the lies his brother had told him about alphas and omegas and volleyball.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

Well, at least volleyball would look good on his college application. Surely that was worth some struggle.

 

-

 

He rethought that statement many times the next morning.

Towel and water bottle in hands, Nekoma’s only other omega member approached Kei at the end of his first practice. Suspiciously, everyone else had already left for the locker room.

“Tsukishima, right?” Yaku asked as if Kei hadn’t been thoroughly introduced by Kuroo to the whole team.

_Great, here comes the misguided and unasked-for attempt at omega bonding and solidarity_ , Kei thought but kept the eye-roll in check. It wouldn’t do to upset a senior on his first day. His ability to make adversaries fast was still something that could make Akiteru and Yamaguchi cry, but…

But Yaku Morisuke was a weird omega. Possibly weirder than Kei himself, and Kei was almost 190cm tall.

It didn’t take long into the practise for Kei to deduce that Yaku was the team mom. Whether it was instincts or his personality or a combination of both, his eyes followed each member of the team like they were his pups. He was there when encouragement was needed, gave advice freely and had confidence but lacked arrogance in being one of the most skilled liberos in the high school circle. How typically omega of him.

Except he also enjoyed kicking the rowdiest of alphas into submission. And they obeyed.

“Yaku-san,” Kei acknowledged, gratefully taking the towel Yaku had offered and wiped the sweat off his face. Nekoma took their practice very, very seriously, he had learned.

“This is going to be weird and embarrassing but better I than Kuroo.” Yaku paused, and shuddered. “Yeah, no. Definitely not Kuroo. Or worse, _coach_.”

“You want to know about my heats.” It wasn’t even a question. Being an omega, Kei was fucking used to it. Or used to being annoyed by it, anyway.

Yaku seemed to pick up on that. “I know it sucks, trust me, I do. But if your heats are irregular…”

“They’re not.”

“Suppressants?”

“When needed.”

One hand on his hip, the other pointing the water bottle at Kei’s chest, Yaku looked Kei square in the eyes. “Nekoma may not be the strongest, but we have a lot of connections in both Tokyo and outside it. A lot of our training camps are joined efforts with other schools. That means a lot of swaggering alphas high on aggression and other volatile emotions.”

“I’m not a newbie at this,” Kei sniped in annoyance. Just because he hated being an omega and didn’t act or look like one, didn’t mean he was going to settle for ignorance. Or denial. On the contrary, he was far, far too aware of all his shortcomings and disadvantages.

“You are at accepting you’re not less than them,” Yaku stated, ignoring the emotion on Kei’s face. “But we’ll work on that. My point is, suppressants are dangerous when overindulged in. I’m sure you’ve read the warnings, just as I’m sure you’ve ignored them. On this team? They will never be _needed._ If you need to skip, you skip. Practice, camp, match… It doesn’t matter. You feel your heat coming? You stay at home, or take the pills. It’s up to you and only you. No one on this team will hold it against you, ever.”

“That’s assuming I even make it to the regulars.” It didn’t take a genius to hear how much confidence he had in that: total zero, and that was fine.

“I know you don’t believe me, not yet anyway. But on this team, you claim a spot by proving your worth. Not by having whatever lucky genetics you were born with.”

This time, Kei really couldn’t help the sneer. “My, what an impressive welcoming speech. Does everyone get it, or just omegas?”

“Tsukishima,” Yaku said calmly, and exuded _danger_ , of all things. “When I say you aren’t less than others, I do also mean I won’t be kicking you any less than others, you know.”

And Kei suddenly, inexplicably, felt like smiling.

 

-

 

Sadly, conversation with Yaku turned out to be a mere glimpse into Kei’s future suffering.

Because a few days later he received his first courting offer in the new school. An alpha girl he’d never seen before, let alone talked to, cornered him after first period. She was confident enough to do it in public so it wasn’t surprising a lot of people had witnessed the whole embarrassing ordeal, including Inuoka.

Damn puppy who then went on and shared the “exciting news” with the rest of the team.

Kei wasn’t a stranger to confessions, if that’s how you wanted to call what essentially were offers of ownership. Ever since presenting in his second year of junior high, Kei had been approached often. Omegas were rare and society encouraged bonding early. He’d always said no, and usually it ended there. A few more obnoxious alphas tried to be bolder and got into Kei’s space even after being rejected, but a nasty remark or two usually did the trick. No one wanted a snarky omega. Aside from making Yamaguchi worried that one day some alpha might not react well to such humiliation, all was fine.

All was not fine, however, if you had the joy of being on Nekoma volleyball team.

The moment Kei stepped into the gym for evening practice, Yamamoto Taketora was on him.

“Hey, Tsukishima! How the hell did you manage to score a pretty girl on your second week here when I’ve been here for two years and not one, not a single girl, has ever confessed to me?!”

“I don’t know, Yamamoto-san,” Kei said, side-stepping the loud annoyance that was their ace with a broad faux-smile. “Could it be because my face isn’t as ugly as yours?”

It took Yamamoto less than a second to realise he’d been insulted, again. “TSUKISHIMA!” he roared.

And didn’t it speak volumes that Kei was utterly, tragically used to that situation already.

“Tsukishima’s right, though?” Case of suffering number two: resident beanstalk. Haiba Lev was exactly the kind of mouthy obnoxious volleyball idiot Kei despised.

That’s why it was always so pleasing to see Yaku kick him in the ass. “Don’t be disrespectful to your senpais, even if they’re annoying!”

“No, I mean,” Haiba continued, undeterred. “Tsukishima’s just so pretty that most people look bad in comparison? Don’t feel bad, Yamamoto-san!”

He probably hadn’t even meant anything by that comment, the brainless smiling simpleton that he was. But in that moment, in the sudden silence that enveloped the gym like a cloak, Kei wanted to pulverise him.

_Pretty_.

How he loathed that word. It was always the first one to describe omegas, followed by submissive and nurturing.

It didn’t help that Haiba had all the physical qualities Kei did, like height and limb reach, and one that Kei did not: being an alpha.

“Hey, Lev, stop being a horny dog and go practice some receives. Yaku, you’re with him. Make him wish for death, would you? Coach gave you OK.” Kuroo’s raspy drawl sliced the tension like a knife. It always did, effortlessly. Kei hated that voice more and more each passing day. “Tsukishima, you’re with me.”

Pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, Kei scolded his features into full neutrality as he approached the captain.

Kuroo must’ve come early, seeing as he was already looking all warmed-up, face flushed with exerted energy. A drop of sweat trickled down his neck, curved gently around his collarbone, then disappeared into the collar of the snug black t-shirt. Kei made a point of not looking lower than Kuroo’s eye level from that point onward.

“While Yaku’s keeping Lev busy and others are with coaches, you and I will be spending some quality time together.” Kuroo grinned broadly, mischievously and Kei felt his stupid heart skip a beat. “It’s about time I taught you some blocking.”

Kei’s no thanks never had the chance to leave his mouth because Kuroo threw an arm around his shoulders and steered him towards the farthest net. His clean, earthy scent assaulted Kei’s senses, all at once, and he wanted to _leave_. Immediately. “Tora, Kenma,” Kuroo shouted without turning his head, “come spike for Tsukki.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kei snapped, shaking off Kuroo’s arm to put some much-needed distance between them.

The alpha was infuriating. He was skilled, both as a player and as a captain. He was respected. He got good grades and was sure to get into a prestigious university, most likely on scholarship. He was genuinely liked and seemed to have plenty of acquaintances.

And he never, ever acted dominant towards anyone on his team.

It’s like his charm just made people want to listen to him. Including Kei.

_Infuriating._

“Your instincts are good, even if you don’t trust them. You know how to read the game and you read it well,” Kuroo said as they got into position in front of the net. “But your form sucks. Your jump is too far to the side when you’re blocking.”

Despite his anger, Kei found himself listening. Learning. It wouldn’t help him in the long run, of course, but… But.

Yamamoto’s first spike grazed Kei’s fingers and left them stinging. The ball landed behind him with a sharp thud. Kei only had enough time to click his tongue in reaction, as Kenma was already tossing another one.

Kuroo killed it effortlessly.

“Concentrate your strength to your fingertips, so you’re not blown back.” Kei watched Kuroo’s fingers wiggle in demonstration. They were long and slim. Probably had calluses all over. There even was an old looking scrape between his thumb and index finger. Still suffocated by that _scent,_ Kei’s traitorous omega mind couldn’t help wondering how those fingers would feel against his skin, on his nape, inside him.

Mortified, Kei missed the next spike completely.

“Hands in front of you, instead of over your head,” Kuroo continued, unaware of the storm inside Kei’s head. His smirk was daring. Terrific. Beautiful. “Stop that alpha, Tsukki.”

Kei did, if only to see Yamamoto’s annoyed face.

 

-

 

That night, he had his first dream about Kuroo. It wasn’t even dirty and Kei couldn’t remember most of it in the morning.

But he couldn’t look at those damn hands without feeling warm all over for a long time after.

(If Kuroo noticed, he didn’t say anything.)

 

-

 

“This Golden Week we will be doing something new,” coach Nekomata announced a week later, looking very pleased for some reason. “Instead of our usual training camp, we’ll be travelling to Miyagi prefecture. A few schools there have agreed to have practice matches with us.”

A round of excitement passed the team. Yamamoto in particular seemed to be on fire, mumbling something about girls and managers. Kei didn’t bother hiding his disgusted sneer, and only smirked when Yamamoto made a move towards him but was stopped by Yaku’s well-aimed physical force.

“And finally, your new jerseys have arrived,” coach Naoi gestured at the cardboard box at his feet.

More excitement.

Kei was exhausted just from watching them.

“You’ll get used to it,” came from his left. As always, Kenma hadn’t even looked up from his game while he spoke.

Quiet and awkward, but blunt and not at all shy, especially when it came to Kuroo, Kenma was almost likeable by Kei’s standards. He hated noise and crowds, didn’t care about team bonding, and most pleasant of all, saw volleyball as just a club. Kei approved. To the point where he often sought whatever corner the beta chose to occupy in the gym during practice because people usually left him alone, unlike Kei. For some reason, the third years made it their mission to include Kei in pretty much everything they did together after school.

“I hope you’re not teaching Tsukki how to ignore us, Kenma.” Startled, Kei looked up. He hadn’t heard the alpha approach. Hadn’t sensed him, either. But then, Kuroo was really good at controlling his pheromones and masking his presence. It was just Kei’s luck he was hyper-aware of the alpha regardless. “Here.”

Confused, Kei looked at the offering of red fabric covered in plastic. At the white number 11 on it. He tilted his head, only belatedly realising that it could be taken as a sign of submission.

Kuroo’s eyes flashed. Kei braced himself and didn’t flinch from them.

“Congratulations,” Kuroo said, voice a note lower than usual. “On making the regulars.”

The words registered slowly. “What.”

“You made the team. Your first match will be in Sendai.” Kuroo gave the other jersey he was holding to Kenma. Kei’s eyes tracked the movement of his fingers, shifted away when he realised what he was doing. “We’re celebrating with everyone after, so don’t you two even try sneaking off before us.”

Kenma nodded, still immersed in his game.

“I heard you’re new in Tokyo?” Kuroo turned his attention back to Kei. He looked smug, far too much so. “Allow us to show you the best ramen place you’ll find around here. And no, you can’t refuse. It’s mandatory.”

“No, it’s not,” Kei protested. “Practice ended five minutes ago. I’m free to go.”

“Nope, you’re not. C’mon, Tsukki, live a little. With us.”

Yaku’s loud voice put a stop to the nasty remark on the tip of Kei’s tongue. “Hey, Kuroo, stop bothering the kids and come help us close up.” With a terrible wink, Kuroo obediently followed the order and went to help Yaku take down the net.

Alone again, Kei looked at the jersey. His jersey.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised.” Kei flinched, startled. And found Kenma’s sharp eyes focused on him. “You’re the best middle blocker we have, after Kuroo.”

For now, Kei knew. He couldn’t help looking for Haiba, then. He wasn’t surprised to find him pestering one of the seniors, probably begging for more spiking practice. Both coaches were adamant about focusing Haiba’s attention on receiving for now, which left the rest of team to suffer after the practise was over. He was relentless in his pursuit.

_Yes, for now_ , Kei thought as he stood up and headed for the club room. The plastic crinkled in his hands and he had to lessen his hold on it.

 

-

 

The locker room that also functioned as storage space for their team was even noisier than usual. And that was saying a lot. People were trying on their new jerseys, and damn Haiba was full of energy, talking to anyone who would listen—and those who wouldn’t, really—how he was going to get one next time.

Kei, in the process of packing his bag, felt the absence of Yamaguchi by his side like a physical wound.

“Aren’t you going to put it on?”

Kuroo came up behind him, clad in only his school trousers, a towel around his neck. His hair was all over the place, some strands matted from sweat and clinging to skin.

Kei himself had already changed and was ready to go. But something in Kuroo’s eyes made his hands start unbuttoning his dress shirt.

It was strange, how bright and obnoxious their team colour was, when Nekoma specialised in slow and steady defensive approach. Even stranger was how nice the shirt felt on, even when Kei did his best to ignore how it wasn’t the question of fabric.

When he turned back around, jersey on, Kuroo was watching him, face unreadable. The air around them got thick, strong scent of fresh pine and earth permeating the room, effortlessly overpowering sweat and male that always clung to the room.

Kei blushed, humiliated at the realisation of how much he wanted to roll in that musky scent, until every part of him smelled like Kuroo, like _claimed_.

“Knew you’d look good in red,” Kuroo finally said. “Welcome to the team, Tsukki.”

From the periphery, Kei noticed Yaku looking straight at them. Shame burned through Kei with new intensity. It was one thing to be reluctantly attracted to Kuroo, it was another to give into his pathetic omega nature and have others witness it.

“Looking good, Tsukishima!” That from Yamamoto. “Hey, Kuroo, you should put yours on, too! We gotta take a picture.”

Kuroo tore his gaze away from Kei’s face, after a beat too long. But then his mouth widened into a stupid smile and he was back to being his annoying dorky self. “Oh, nice idea, Tora! Gather round, everyone.”

“It’s the worst idea,” Kei muttered under his breath. “Also, you’re the only one still not dressed, _captain_.”

“Now, now, Tsukki, don’t be a grump, no matter how cute that looks on your face.” Thank the universe and whatever deities existed in it Kuroo was finally putting on his damn shirt. “Kai, you’re in charge of making sure Tsukki doesn’t run away.”

Like Kenma, Kai Nobuyuki was on the silent side, and therefore on Kei’s good side. Unfortunately, he took his duties very, very seriously.

And that is how Tsukishima Kei ended up in the centre of a team photo, flanked by Kuroo and Kai, looking a mere fraction as annoyed as he felt, with Kuroo’s finger poking him in the cheek, urging him to smile. Kuroo himself needed no encouragement: his grin was wide and smug and fucking annoying.

Also, he looked really good in red.

“Alright, off we go, then,” Kuroo ordered, after the picture had been sent to everyone on the team—probably some people off the team, too, if Kuroo’s phone vibrating constantly was any indication—and everyone was done changing.

Not everyone decided to go, much to Kuroo’s chagrin but also understanding. The usual culprits, however, were all present so Kei didn’t attempt to run, knowing he was under constant supervision.

And it wasn’t all that bad, he thought. The conversation revolved mostly around volleyball, until their group naturally split into a few smaller ones, to make walking down the road more comfortable. That’s when topics started to range from school hell to video game heaven.

Kei was enjoying not having to contribute to the conversation, walking next to Kenma. Even if that sadly meant walking next to Kuroo. But Kuroo was surprisingly silent, smiling at nothing. Beside him, Kenma was killing some monster on his PSP.

Late afternoon sun was warm and pleasant, the rush hour of Tokyo felt far away on the small street they’d taken, and Kei was left to his own thoughts while still being in the company of others.

No, it wasn’t bad at all.

“Here we are,” Kuroo’s voice interrupted, prompting Kei to take in his surroundings.

They stood in front of a small ramen shop that blended well into the surrounding area; not too flashy, clearly catering towards those who knew what to look for. Most of the team was already trickling inside, giving cheery greetings to the man at the counter. A common occurrence, then.

When Kei followed them inside, he could see why Nekoma would prefer this place: small, but cosy, it was filled with other students.

He glanced at Kuroo, question unvoiced.

Kuroo shrugged, waving at the man, too. “It’s cheap, but good. And the old man—he’s the owner, by the way—used to play basketball in his youth. He likes to reminisce, I guess. Live again through our stories, or so he says.”

With a hand on Kei’s shoulder blades—which Kei was far, far too aware of—Kuroo led Kei to the table, even though Kei clearly could’ve deduced where it was himself, seeing as everyone was already sitting down around it. But his throat had gone completely dry and he stayed silent, rebelling only when Kuroo tried to pull out a seat for him. With a glare that had Kuroo raising his hands in mock surrender, Kei chose to sit next to Yaku.

That was a mistake.

A few minutes into the meal, while everyone was busy talking, eating and being generally gross, Yaku made his move.

“You should definitely take advantage of Kuroo, since he’s offering.”

Kei was glad he didn’t have anything in his mouth. “Excuse me?”

Yaku picked a piece of chicken, shoved it into his mouth. Chewed meticulously, unhurriedly. “I’ve heard the rumours.”

Ah, the rumours. They’d started sometime after the fifth rejection. Alphas and their wounded pride. Kei wasn’t at all surprised when he’d heard people whisper about the frigid omega that either didn’t know his place, or worse, was a failure as an omega in general.

Sadly, it didn’t stop the offers. Apparently now he was a fucking challenge and no alpha could possible refuse that.

“So?”

“So,” Yaku said patiently, munching on more food between words. Kei wanted to hit him. “You’ve annoyed a lot of alphas and gained a reputation for doing so. You don’t wear a patch, even when you’re walking out in the city. And you don’t have a mate, not from what I’ve seen. Or if you do, they’ve sure been taking shitty care of you if you don’t smell like them at all.”

Kei ignored the taking care comment. In a society like theirs, it was useless to argue about the established norm. He just thought Yaku would be different.

But then, Yaku also wore a scent patch. Kei had seen him put the square sticker the colour of his skin right over his scent gland, immediately suppressing his scent as an omega. By the time they were out on the street, he could’ve easily passed for a beta.

Kei had a couple of exact same patches in his bag, too, but rarely used them. Because along with suppressing your own scent, they muted all scents around you. Kei had never felt comfortable enough with the world to allow that.

Irritation growing, he put down his chopsticks and pushed his bowl away. “I repeat, so?”

“You’re really rude, aren’t you?” Yaku may’ve rolled his eyes as he said it, but the smirk on his lips told Kei he wasn’t offended. If anything, he looked… almost proud. “My point is, in your situation, having an alpha like Kuroo around is beneficial. Stick close to him. Let him be overprotective, as his instincts dictate. It should make the majority of others back off. Unless they are really into you, and not just after an omega.”

The logic behind that was something Kei couldn’t deny: being a captain, Kuroo was the leader and he clearly saw the team as his pack, or something akin to it. His instincts would absolutely demand he provide safety for the members. And his scent would warn off any stray alphas.

But Kei would rather block a spike with his face than do that.

He gave Yaku a smile that was as cheerful as his mood. “Thank you, but no thanks.”

“Tsukishima,” Yaku said, abandoning his food in favour of Kei. “High school is not junior high.” A dark shadow fell across his face—there, and gone. “It’s your choice, ultimately. But do be careful. For you own sake, even if you don’t seem to value yourself much.”

That wasn’t true. It was precisely because Kei valued himself that he was hell-bent on not repeating his brother’s mistakes.

Silence fell over them. Their conversation had been quiet enough for no one to hear, so no one noticed when it ended either. Kei fiddled with a napkin, not exactly self-conscious, but rather having nothing to do.

From across the table, he caught Kuroo’s attention on him. “Eat, Tsukki.” He nodded at Kei’s bowl, more than half-full still. “Or you’re never gonna grow into a big boy.”

“You already have a big boy right next to you, Kuroo-san,” Kei replied, referring to Haiba who was busy shoving noodles in his mouth, cheerful and energetic even at that task. “Don’t be greedy. It’s considered unattractive. And you need all the help you can get in that department.”

Kuroo made a dramatic show of clutching his heart. “ _Ouch.”_

Kei felt just a tiny bit better.

(Enough to feel his lips curl up at the corners, and in his struggle to control the emotion, he missed the dumbstruck look on Kuroo’s face completely.

Others did not.)

 

-

 

“I made the team,” Kei told Yamaguchi that evening, after he got home.

It took Yamaguchi a second to understand what Kei meant, hand holding the pen pausing. Then he smiled, wide and innocent. “Tsukki, that’s amazing! Did you get a jersey? What number are you? When is your first match?”

If it were anyone else, Kei would’ve shut down the questions immediately. It wasn’t a happy occasion, and it certainly did not warrant any attention.

But this was Yamaguchi. The same boy who’d stuck with Kei after that one afternoon when Kei hadn’t managed to keep his mouth shut in the face of bullying. The same boy who hadn’t changed at all even after he’d presented as an alpha, letting omega Kei lead the way, as he’d always had. The same boy who had always had Kei’s back.

That is why he said, “We’re coming to Sendai. On Golden Week. To train, I mean.”

Yamaguchi dropped his pen. “You’re- You’re the team from Tokyo that agreed to play against us!”

“I don’t know the details, but apparently there is history between our teams.” Or so Kuroo had explained. “Something about garbage dumps and old friendships.”

And wasn’t that some weird twist of fate: Nekoma’s fated rival was Karasuno, of all teams.

Thinking about that made him think about his earlier conversation with Yaku and the looks he’d seen between him and Kuroo throughout the dinner.

Did Kuroo know about Yaku’s ridiculous suggestion? Did he agree? Was he the one who came up with it in the first place?

That disastrous train-wreck-about-to-happen of a thought came to a much-needed stop with a knock on his door, followed by his mother’s voice, “Kei?” At his affirming noise, door cracked open and his mother peeked inside. “Oh, hello, Tadashi-kun.” As always, his beta mother smiled warmly at his friend and even though he wasn’t physically present in the room, asked him the kind of questions that spoke of genuine interest and care. After they’d exchanged their pleasantries, she turned back to Kei. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen. Come help me set the table when you’re done? Oh, and your brother’s coming, too.”

She mentioned the last bit as an afterthought, even when she no doubt was ecstatic about the news. Though Akiteru attended a university in Tokyo, he moved out to stay closer to campus, having rented a rundown flat with a couple of friends. Kei didn’t know if it had been because of him.

Just as he didn’t know if he appreciated his mother’s attempts at pretending that everything was fine between her children.

Kei bid Yamaguchi goodbye and with a sigh, followed his mother downstairs.

Yes, everything was just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Miyagi, Karasuno and Kuroo pushing Far Too Many Buttons. Oh, and Hinata Shouyou. Rest in pieces, dear Kei.


	2. And it doesn't matter what you do, or who you are or where you live

The gym stunk of alpha pheromones. A cloying mix of sharp and musky scents that suffocated. Kei’s vision swam. Sweat ran down his neck in rivulets.

On the other side of the net, the middle blocker opposing Kei cursed.

Next to Kei, Kuroo radiated smug, smug satisfaction.

_Fucking alphas._

After a few hours of gruesome travel that felt like a century in a tiny, airless bus, Sendai had greeted Nekoma with a warm spring day, as well as their first opponent: Tsukinokizawa High. Before either of the teams even got a chance to warm up, some of Tsukinokizawa’s alphas had said something about Kenma. Kuroo had heard. And made it his mission to make them suffer.

Unfortunately, that meant Kei was suffering too. But damned if he was going to lose.

Which was the real problem. Taking on an alpha? On a volleyball court? Kei had never harboured any such ridiculous notions, not even back when he’d trusted Akiteru and his silly dreams of equality.

Not ever, until Kuroo.

Kuroo, who looked so different on court, dripping sweat and breathing heavy. Focused and intense. Aggressive rather than teasing in his ceaseless taunting. Dominating. _Alpha._

It was Kei’s first time seeing Nekoma in an official capacity, outside of their own gym, donning their bright red jerseys. Like blood in our veins, Kuroo had stated in his stupid unnecessary speech. One set later, Kei could begrudgingly admit that maybe the metaphor had been fitting. Their team did move in a constant flow, never stopping, always circling back to the hidden brains of their defence.

And somehow, Kei found himself being pulled along, swept away before he even noticed the tide was coming.

He hadn’t expected that. He didn’t _want_ that.

It was Akiteru all over again. Only this time, instead of words—instead of _lies_ —Kei was against actions. There was Kenma, small and average and disinterested, skilfully navigating each and every one of them to where they were needed. There was Yaku, short and violent and _an_ _omega_ , receiving spikes that even Kuroo could not and making it look effortless. There was Inuoka, _an alpha_ , cheering on the bench while Kei struggled to keep up on the court in his place.

A part of Kei wanted to give up, to show them that it was pointless. Not worth it. _Pathetic._

But one sideways peek at Kuroo, at the blissful enjoyment radiating off him in thick waves despite obvious exhaustion, and he wanted to try, too. Just this once. To see what it felt like, while he still had the chance.

 

-

 

(Except that the next school sneered at the fact that Nekoma had two omegas on their starting line-up. This time both Kuroo and Yaku had heard.

By the match point, Kei was ready to die. Or murder his entire team. Whichever required less physical effort.)

 

-

 

A bath at the inn they stayed at relieved some of the soreness in Kei’s muscles. Ten solid hour of sleep they were given was the remedy for exhaustion.

Or it would be, if Kei could actually fall asleep.

Because nothing could stop the wild rollercoaster of thoughts in his head. Not when even the most troublesome members of the team had finally succumbed to sleep, and silence had fallen, disrupted only by occasional snores from Yamamoto and whimpers from Inuoka. Even the sliver of blue screen light from the direction of Kenma’s futon eventually died off.

Kei couldn’t take it.

Careful not to disturb anyone and accidentally wake them, he grabbed his sneakers, glasses and phone, then padded barefoot out of the room. Once safely out in the hallway, door closed shut behind him, Kei put on his shoes and continued his silent trek downstairs. There he had to rely on his phone’s flashlight, but slowly, carefully, he finally made it out.

The night was cold, and Kei shivered in his thin t-shirt, but the fresh spring air felt good. A faint smell of mud coming from the tiny garden to his left, sharp traces of ozone in anticipation of upcoming rain, and the sweet, sweet scent of cherry blossoms from the majestic tree to his right—Kei breathed it in like he’d been starving for it. And maybe he had.

Having to share a room with his teammates was strange, though not necessarily bad. Sure, they were loud, but—tragically enough—Kei had gotten used to their shenanigans. Most of the time, he didn’t even mind, registering the racket that always surrounded their team as mere background noise. When they did get too loud, Kuroo and Yaku were always there to swiftly take care of it.

A mere month ago Kei hadn’t even known these people; now he was comfortable sleeping in close proximity to all of them at once. Annoyed with them, yes, but not uncomfortable, or worried. _Safe_.

Kei sensed Kuroo moments before he heard him open the front door but didn’t bother turning around. That too was alarming, the way he trusted Kuroo with his back so blindly. Especially when he was too tired to fight back.

“You’ll get sick,” Kuroo said, stopping beside Kei on the stone path leading to the front steps. His voice was soft but raspy, probably from all the shouting he’d done during the matches. Kei simply didn’t have the energy to get annoyed at himself for the fleeting thought of whether that was how Kuroo sounded in bed, too. “It’ll be a shame, considering how well you did today.”

“What, no helpful critique this time?”

Kuroo shrugged, lazy, and his shoulder brushed against Kei’s. “I showed you the basics. You’re smart. You’ll figure the rest out yourself.”

Kei gave Kuroo a sideways look. “Please stop being nice, Kuroo-san. It’s creepy.”

“But I’m _always_ nice.”

Kei’s lack of response spoke volumes in itself.

With nothing else to say, he fully expected Kuroo to head back inside and leave Kei to his thoughts. That’s why he was visibly surprised when instead, Kuroo offered him a hand.

“It really is cold just standing here.” Kuroo, too, was wearing only a t-shirt, muscles straining against the fabric. “And it really would be a shame if you got sick. So how about a walk? To warm you up? Clear your head? Whatever it is you need?”

Kei ignored the hand, of course. But he took a step forward, then another, and felt Kuroo fall into it with him, after muttering something indecipherable that Kei ignored, too.

In comfortable, companionable silence, they walked down the empty street, neat rows of streetlights illuminating their way. Kei took a deep breath of familiar countryside air, heard a lone hoot of an owl in the distance, and felt inexplicably home.

As if reading his mind, Kuroo asked, “So, which part of Miyagi are you from?”

“This precise part.” At Kuroo’s raised eyebrow, Kei explained, “Our old house is just a few streets ahead.”

“And which school were you going to attend? Gotta make sure we crush them. You’re obviously better off with us.”

Kei rolled his eyes. _Of course_ it would come back to volleyball. “Karasuno.”

Kuroo actually stopped, forcing Kei to do the same. A streetlight towered right above them, which was a shame, because now Kei could see Kuroo clearly. “Well that’s some coincidence! Or maybe fate? I’d go with fate, it’s more romantic.”

Maybe it was the day’s exhaustion, maybe it was that _look_ in Kuroo’s eyes, but whatever it was, Kei heard himself say, “I don’t understand why.”

“Why what?”

“Why do you try so hard? All of you, I mean, on the team.”

He’d started walking again, too anxious to stand still. Kuroo’s voice held no traces of judgement, only genuine interest, as he hurried after Kei. “Why don’t you?”

They turned left when the road split, circling back towards the inn but taking the longer route. Whether it was intentional or just unwillingness to go back the same way they came, Kei didn’t know.

“I don’t see the point in it,” he answered finally. “But I’m an omega. I thought that maybe it was different for you, because you’re an alpha. But then Yaku-san… Yaku-san is exactly the same.”

Kei didn’t like being confused, but he liked being ignorant even less. If Kuroo had the answers, Kei was willing to ask the questions.

“Probably because it’s fun?”

Kei blinked. “What is?”

Kuroo blinked back. “Volleyball.”

“Oh.”

“The level of excitement coming from you is astonishing,” Kuroo said drily. “Alright, let’s put it this way: losing sucks. Isn’t that why you taunted that blocker from Tsukinokizawa? You wanted him to lose control. And once he did, you took advantage of it. Quite inspiring, by the way.”

Kei flushed. “Still, everyone loses eventually. Even if you somehow make it to nationals this year, the chances of you winning are very slim.”

Kuroo pocked him gently in the cheek. “Rude, even if probably accurate. But winning isn’t the point. Fun is. And in my experience, there is very little fun to volleyball when you suck at it. That’s why we do our best not to.”

They were almost back at the inn, the old building looming just across the road, it’s single porch light beaconing with promises of warmth and comfort. Kei slowed down his steps. “Fun,” he repeated, a bit disbelieving. Or maybe a lot. It was hard to tell amidst the chaos in his head.

“It felt good, didn’t it? All of your successful blocks today. Imagine if your opponent had been a national level wing spiker. Imagine if you managed to shut them down completely. _That_ , Tsukki, is reeeeeeally fun. Speaking from experience, of course.”

It was very, very hard to imagine that. And the inn was right there, dark and still, asleep as Kei and Kuroo should have been.

“You said if you make it to the nationals,” Kuroo said, stopping before the two wooden steps, as if he too was sensing the imminent end of their evening, “but it won’t be just me. It will be me and you and the rest of the team. And you, Tsukki, will help us climb as high as we can there.”

“That sounds like a very one-sided deal to me,” Kei pointed out.

Kuroo leaned closer, his eyes dark and intense, a frame of dark lashes making them all the more so. “You, Tsukki, will get hooked on volleyball. Do you know why?” Words refused to form. Kei’s throat felt dry. And his heart felt full of stupid, stupid excitement. “Because you don’t need me or anyone else to tell you how it is. Or to give you a reason to try harder. All you need is to experience it. That moment. And you will. As long as you don’t quit.”

There was such conviction in Kuroo’s voice, such faith, in Kei of all people. And he couldn’t help it, he laughed. A soft, disbelieving chuckle that somehow morphed into more and more and more, until he had to clutch at his side, more wheezing than laughing, really.

Kuroo had gone completely still, staring at Kei with his mouth slightly agape.

“Kuroo-san?”

No answer.

“Kuroo-san,” Kei repeated. When that didn’t warrant him a response either, Kei placed a tentative hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. Without thinking. Without considering how close his fingers lay to Kuroo’s scent gland.

Later, he would blame this mistake on the stunned look on Kuroo’s face, on the lights and shadows exaggerating his features, on the stillness of the night. Because it was a mistake, touching Kuroo like that.

Even if it did snap the alpha out of whatever trance he’d been in.

Kei did not move his hand away. Didn’t say anything, either.

Slowly, Kuroo raised his own hand. Slower still, he covered Kei’s palm with his cold fingers, and brought it higher, higher, straight to the pulsing gland on his neck.

Every nerve in Kei’s body went taut at the contact. He could smell it again, that wonderful earthy scent that made him burn with want. Could smell his own pheromones, responding to it. It was equal parts mortifying and _right._

Kei licked his parched lips, noting how Kuroo’s eyes immediately snapped to them, to follow the movement with rapt attention.

He didn’t say anything, either.

Gently, Kei pulled his hand back, and had to grasp his fingers with the other, forcing them to still. It became easier once he looked away from Kuroo.

Kuroo cleared his throat. “We should probably get back inside.”

“Probably,” Kei agreed, and let Kuroo hold the door open for him.

 

-

 

(Truth was, the weird undercurrent between him and Kuroo had existed from the moment Kuroo had taunted him into joining Nekoma. Kei wasn’t an idiot. He recognized physical attraction. And Kuroo was attractive as hell.

So it wasn’t a wonder that things sometimes got awkwardly tense between them. As much as Kei wanted to deny that.

For now, he could pretend it was nature’s fault. Kuroo was an alpha. And Kei was an omega.

And that was all there was to it.)

 

-

 

The next few days passed in a blur of different uniforms, same degrading remarks and never-ending exhaustion. Aside from a few looks he’d seen his teammates give Kuroo, of all people, and some very conspicuous whispering between him, Kenma and Yaku, all was normal. Kei even managed to sleep at night.

And then it was Sunday. Then, it was Karasuno.

They were waiting outside the gym, a row of black and menacing and omnivorous. Kuroo greeted them with a smile, the kind a predator gives its pray right before it pounces. Immediately, alpha pheromones spiked from every direction.

And amidst them, a sweet, honeyed fragrance of an omega.

He looked like a middle schooler; tiny and bright and unable to hide his excitement. Or stand still. His eyes kept darting from one alpha face to another, unafraid. Then they landed on Kei.

“You’re an omega,” he said. “But you’re tall. How tall are you?”

Kei’s smile was as bright as it was mean. “Sorry, could you repeat that? It’s really hard to hear you when you’re all the way down there.”

Annoyance burned through the shrimp like a wildfire. That was nice, though not nearly as much as the hoarse, awkward chuckle that prevented the shrimp from further embarrassing himself. The sound of it poured over Kei like a magical soothing salve. “His name is Hinata Shouyou.”

Kei’s gaze finally slid to the last person on Karasuno’s line-up. “Yamaguchi.”

“Hello, Tsukki.”

The shrimp looked at them, attention flickering from one to another in utter confusion. “You know him, Yamaguchi?”

The beginnings of Yamaguchi’s warm smile turned into open-mouthed dread when a menacing shadow fell from behind Kei. The shrimp—Hinata, whatever—actually squeaked. “You have a problem with our middle blocker, huh?!”

A carbon copy of Yamamoto materialised behind Yamaguchi, burning with the same kind of murderous intent. “You have a problem with ours?!”

Kei was done with the entire situation when too many things happened at once: Karasuno’s female manager made it to Yamamoto’s field of vision, rendering him even more useless than usual; Kenma got noticed by the shrimp and Yamamoto times two had to get involved, again; Yaku and Karasuno’s deceptively nice-looking beta came wearing identical you-have-embarrassed-yourself-and-our-team-and-I-will-make-you-regret-being-born-if-you-don’t-stop faces.

“Let’s go, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi laughed, a little easier this time, a lot more familiar. “I guess your team is as crazy as mine, Tsukki.”

“I’m sorry for us both.”

 

-

 

Karasuno’s volleyball team was full of holes. In their defence, in their offence, in their formation. Like a chick barely out of its nest, they couldn’t yet fly well.

And on the ground, they got devoured.

Still, they persisted. Every time they fell down, they got back up. With something new to show. Where Nekoma analysed and attacked strategically, Karasuno dived into things head first, recklessly, without reservations. Like they had nothing to lose.

And Hinata Shouyou was the most exhausting of them all.

“Argh!”

Another spike blocked, another weird noise. Another notch of determination on that crazed face. Shorter than Yaku, weaker than Kei, less skilled than even Haiba. Yet there he was, soaring higher and higher, as if every failure added feathers to his wings.

As if he didn’t care that he would always be weaker, smaller, _less_ than someone else.

Kei took selfish pleasure in shutting Hinata down, even as each block left his fingers tingling.

It had been Kenma’s idea: force the freaky duo to do their freaky quick, but on Nekoma’s terms. Seal off one side of the court and bring the ball straight to Kei, whose height Hinata could not overcome. If that failed, Yaku had his back, always.

A human wall, coach Nekomata had called it. Able to break a player.

Why, then, wasn’t Hinata switched out? Why was he still trying?

(The way Akiteru hadn’t.)

Why hadn’t he given up yet?

(The way Akiteru had.)

 _Was this why,_ Kei thought, almost belatedly, as the ball blew past his hands, crashing through his wall.

And even though Yaku had received the ball perfectly, tossed it to Yamamoto who scored a point, Hinata’s eyes had burned bright with satisfaction. Not smugness, not contempt, but almost… joy. The kind that made you hungry for more, more, _more_.

Only now, as the players rotated again, he was against Kuroo. Who with his presence alone managed to intimidate Hinata; but not to back down.

Kei’s arms trembled as he tossed the ball for a serve.

It wasn’t that Hinata’s spikes were strong. It was that they came over, and over, and over again. Until they broke through.

“They really aren’t human, are they,” Kuroo chuckled, rough and delighted, as the demon duo’s quick took even him by surprise. “Well then, let’s get that point back.”

Kei felt excitement crawl slowly up his spine.

He shivered.

 

-

 

Karasuno lost, of course. But not without a fight. They even looked like they wanted to do it again.

“You did well, Tsukishima-kun.” Coach Nekomata’s pleased voice had Kei turning away from the sea of black, now mixed with red. “What an interesting team they are. So starved for victory.” There was that glint in the coach’s old eyes again, the same one Kei noticed when their Golden Week plans had first been announced. “Next time we meet them, I think you just might block that demon setter and his iron club completely.”

With a hand curled behind his back, Nekomata walked away, probably to torment Karasuno’s coach some more.

Kuroo plopped down on the bench beside Kei, gulping down water like he hadn’t had any in days. “How did that feel?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm.

“How did what feel?”

“Blocking the crazy shrimp.”

Kei gave him a sour look. “He broke through.” As did their ace.

“Frustrating, isn’t it?” Kuroo took another gulp of water, then another, before he capped the bottle. He tossed it in the air a few times, caught it neatly every time. Then he looked at Kei from beneath his messy bangs, unreadable. “I can teach you. How to take on wing spikers with alpha power levels.”

“You’re not a spiker.”

“No, but I have someone in mind. Don’t give me that look, it’s not Tora.” Kuroo got up, stretching his arms as he did so. They still had a gym to clean up, and a bus ride to suffer through. “Come to our school gym next Sunday. We don’t usually have a fixed time, so I’ll text you the details later.”

Kei got up, too. He was too tired to consider anything right now. Besides, he had a best friend to track down.

A look over the massive gym told Kei his teammates had decided to bond with Karasuno—the thought made him shudder. One Yamamoto was plenty. Yamamoto joining Tanaka and embarking on a crusade to worship the ground Shimizu Kyoko walked on? Kei wanted to be as far away from that as possible.

His other teammates fared far worse, though. Yaku might deny it to his grave, but he was obviously dodging Karasuno’s intense libero, probably for the sake of his sanity. Kenma, on the other hand, was definitely hiding from Karasuno’s setter. Why he thought talking to Hinata was a good idea, considering, Kei had no idea.

Yamaguchi was collecting stray balls in the far corner, away from the chaos, so that’s where Kei headed. If luck was on his side, maybe their teams will never cross paths again. Or at least won’t have to share close space.

Kei didn’t have a lot of faith in luck these days.

“What?” Kei asked when Yamaguchi sniffed at him, discreetly.

Yamaguchi blanched, caught, then blushed. “Sorry, Tsukki. It’s just…” he trailed off, nervous in a way he rarely was around Kei.

“What, Yamaguchi.”

“You smell… Like an alpha?”

Kei frowned. He hadn’t noticed that, too overwhelmed by other scents. “I spend a lot of time around them?”

Yamaguchi bit his lip and Kei had a sinking, sinking feeling in his gut. “It’s not like that. It’s…”

“ _What.”_

“…like one of them has marked you? It’s faint,” he hurried to explain when he saw the expression on Kei’s face.

“But it’s there.”

“…yes.”

And for a moment, for one traitorous, foolish moment, Kei didn’t feel consumed by his righteous anger. His heart skipped a beat.

“When I go to prison for committing murder, you don’t have to visit me there,” he told Yamaguchi.

“The scary part is that I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not.”

“That’s because I can’t either.”

“Ah," said Yamaguchi, with perfect understanding.

 

-

 

Kei lasted the entire drive back to Tokyo. He simply cut off his thoughts with angry music blasting through his headphones and the world with a sleeping mask over his eyes.

He knew Kuroo, due to his duties as a captain, would stay behind longer than others. So he waited patiently off to the side of the parking lot as Kuroo made sure everyone got their bags, sent the rest of the team home with orders to rest well, and talked to the coaches about upcoming training for the Inter High.

As soon as he was done, Kei made his move.

“Kuroo-san, could we talk?”

Kuroo must have sensed the anger—and known the reason for it—because he sighed, raked a hand through his hair, and motioned for Kei to follow him. As little desire as Kei had to do that, he wanted to have this conversation in public even less.

They went to a small secluded area near the school gates. It was early Sunday evening, the sky barely beginning to darken, but the school grounds were empty with the exception of some sports team taking their turn in the gym.

Kei didn’t bother beating around the bush. “You scent marked me.”

Kuroo’s wince, at least, looked apologetic. “I may have borrowed your jersey while you were bathing.” He hesitated, then added, “And that time, at the inn.”

Anger erupted inside Kei, like a volcano. He hated it. Hated the lack of control that came with it, the sudden influx of his pheromones, now sour and acrid.

Hated the way Kuroo withstood it like it was nothing.

Hated the reason for it.

“I didn’t know how to ask you,” the alpha explained in a low but surprisingly clear voice. He wasn’t looking at Kei, though, focused intently on something in the distance instead. “Which doesn’t make it okay. But you were surrounded by angry alphas. And you relished in pushing their buttons. And I just… I didn’t think, I think.”

“Am I supposed to roll onto my back and show you my gratitude now?”

“What?” It was a wonder that Kuroo didn’t get a whiplash from how fast he snapped his head to stare at Kei. “No, Tsukki, of course not. God, no, never! That’s not- It wasn’t- I hoped the mark would fade before we came back, that you’ll never have to know. Which, I now realise, was extremely fucked up. Wow, nice going, Tetsurou.”

The words, jumbled as they were, eased an ache Kei didn’t know he even had. His lips curled into a smile too self-deprecating to be true. “Yaku-san did warn me about alphas in high school. Maybe I should have listened. Goodnight, Kuroo-san. I hope you choke on nightmares.”

As he turned to leave, he heard Kuroo exhale loudly, followed by a muted, “Fuck.”

 

-

 

Yaku came for Kei during lunch. Just barged into the first-year classroom, grabbed Kei’s forearm in one hand, Kei’s lunch box in the other, and without sparing anyone else a glance, started for the roof. Kei was too bewildered to protest.

Yaku had to eventually release his hand to fiddle with the lock, but Kei wasn’t foolish enough to take the chance to escape.

In retrospect, maybe he should have.

“Kuroo told me what happened.”

“The roof should be inaccessible to students.”

Yaku smiled, settling comfortably on the ground, back against the railing. “I have my ways.”

“Yaku-san, has anyone ever told you that you’re very scary?”

“I usually take it as a complement.” He gave Kei back his lunch, then took out his own. “Now, let’s talk.”

Following Yaku’s example, Kei dug into his food, famished for once—yet another sign of his heat coming two days early. In addition to a massive headache and raise in body temperature he’d woken up to this morning. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“That wasn’t a request, Tsukishima. Besides, I’ll be the one talking. You just have to listen.”

Somewhere in his sixteen years of existence, Kei must have really pissed off some deity up there. There was no other explanation for this.

“My first year, when I joined the team, some alphas really didn’t want me there,” Yaku said, matter of fact, between bites of food. He looked like a hamster with rice-stuffed cheeks. “They were mostly freshmen, so one of the seniors suggested scenting me. To keep things from spiralling out of control, he said. I didn’t understand then, what he had meant.”

Kei’s grip on his chopsticks tightened and he had to put them down. Take a sip of water instead.

“Naturally, I said no.” Yaku smiled faintly at the memory, inhaling another rice ball. “Way less politely, of course. Not my proudest moment. Anyway, fast forward to our first match. I got the spot as the starting libero.” As Yaku’s smile vanished, Kei was suddenly transported to another school, another match, another omega paying the price for upsetting an alpha. “It didn’t go well with some people on the team.”

Kei looked down at his food, at the pretty skyline, anywhere but Yaku, unsure if he wanted to hear the rest. He had, after all, seen it happen before.

“They cornered me after school, intent on teaching me my place. I think until that point I didn’t really realise that I wasn’t considered a kid anymore. That people around me weren’t kids anymore. Kids can be cruel, too. But there is something different about it when hormones and adult emotions get involved.”

“It’s uglier,” Kei said, remembering Yamaguchi, remembering Akiteru.

Yaku nodded, just once. “The team got there in time, before anything violent could happen. The three alphas got kicked off the team, I earned my place as a regular. I still didn’t let anyone scent me, though. Because ultimately, it was my choice, and I wanted it to _be_ a choice.”

“Did Kuroo-san ask you to talk to me?”

Yaku snorted. “No, the idiot called me in panic yesterday, saying he fucked up and you hated him now and oh God, Yakkun, I just destroyed our team what do I doooo, mom.”

“Is that why you’re telling me to go roll around in his scent?”

“Is that what you think I’m telling you?”

Kei gave Yaku a very unimpressed look, seniority be damned. Yaku snickered and threw a grain of rice at Kei. It hit him smack in the forehead. Yaku’s taunting smirk made Kei reconsider throwing something heavier back. He wasn’t stupid.

“Kuroo had been one of the first ones to arrive that time. Socked one of the alphas in the face. I think it had been an awakening for him, too.” Yaku fished out one last piece of broccoli, looked at it with unconcealed disgust, and with a face of a martyr, swallowed it whole without chewing. “Kuroo didn’t want the same to happen to you, is what I’m telling you, Tsukishima.”

The lunch hour would be over soon, if the hustle they could hear all the way on the roof was any indication. Silently, Kei began collecting his things.

“Did he go about it the right way? Probably not. But he’s an idiot, and a love-struck one at that, what else did you expect.” Yaku shook his head, exasperated. “If you want to be pissed at him, go ahead. But maybe let him know you don’t actually hate him? ‘Cause he’s gonna be unbearable otherwise. Unless, of course…” Yaku paused. Took a proper look at Kei, squinting against the sun.

Kei had a sudden urge to jump off the building.

“I don’t want to be late for class, Yaku-san.”

Slowly, Yaku’s smile widened, turned vicious and sharp.

“You’re not pissed off at Kuroo,” he said, understanding dawning. “You’re pissed that you _aren’t_ pissed! You wanted the mark. You just didn’t want it like this.”

Maybe tossing Yaku off the building was the better alternative. He didn't only because something else dawned on Yaku.

“Tsukishima, I have only one question,” the omega began, dangerously low. Kei inched towards the door. “If you weren’t angry in the first place, why the hell did you let me talk about Kuroo like he was some prince from a sappy fairy tale?”

“If that was your definition of a fairy tale…”

“ _Tsukishima.”_

Kei didn’t linger.

 

-

 

That his heat came two days early was a blessing, Kei supposed. If only because that way he could avoid Kuroo a little longer.

Or that was the plan, ruined, naturally, by Kuroo himself standing next to Kei’s shoe locker, arms raised in defence, charming smile firmly in place.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

Kei raised a sceptical eyebrow. “That’s exactly what a stalker would say, though.”

“Damn, you’re right. I take it back?”

“So you are stalking me? My, Kuroo-san, how low you have fallen.”

Kuroo laughed, light-hearted, then let the humour slip off his face completely. “Listen, Tsukki, about yesterday…”

“Now is really not the time, Kuroo-san.” Being this close to Kuroo, even with his scent tightly leashed, Kei could feel his body react. His skin itched. His scent glands burned. Slick pooled in his underwear. And he _wanted._

Kuroo’s nostrils flared. He took a hasty step back. “Right. I’ll tell coach you’re not coming for a few days.” Just as Yaku had said the first time they met, Kuroo held no resentment over Kei missing practice, even with Inter High practically there.

But right then, Kei couldn’t care less about any of that. He was this close to doing something stupid, like rubbing himself against Kuroo until every part of him smelled the same. It didn’t help that Kuroo looked like he wouldn’t mind it one bit.

Feeling just a tiny bit resentful, Kei grabbed his shoes from the locker, shoved them on, and with a muttered goodbye to Kuroo, turned to leave. He still had some time before the heat would truly hit him, but he wasn’t going to spend it around Kuroo.

“Wait, Tsukki.”

Each extra second in the alpha’s presence made the burn stronger, harder to ignore. But as much as Kei wanted—needed to leave, the omega part of him wouldn’t let it happen. It needed to please, needed the attention, wanted to obey.

Trembling—from anger, from heat, from Kuroo—Kei stopped. Waited.

“I know you won’t let me walk you home—and frankly, that’s a very, very bad idea right now—but, here.” In his hands, Kuroo held his bright red Nekoma jacked. His face, however, could easily rival it in colour. “It should be enough to get you home safely.”

Kei may have been utterly disgusted with himself, but he took the jacket anyway. Had to resists the urge to burrow in it right there and then.

_How pathetic._

 

-

 

But it did get him home safely, straight into his room, behind a locked door, buried under blankets. Already shivering. Already burning.

He hadn’t been prepared.

Normally, Kei’s heats were unpleasant but predictable. Never off schedule. Never unbearable. Being near an alpha, one that he was attracted to but one that wasn’t _his_ , must have had screwed with whatever hormones were responsible for this suffering.

Kuroo’s jacket smelled like pine and earth and alpha.

Kei held the fabric close to his face, inhaled.

He’d had to strip off his clothes, even his own skin feeling too restricting, too tight, too much. Filled with self-loathing, he’d grabbed the damn jacket, curled under it, enveloping himself with the scent, with the feel.  It was pathetic. It was wrong.

And he was way past caring about any of that.

His cock was hard and leaking. Slick dribbled down his thighs. Drool soaked into his pillow.

Kuroo’s scent was everywhere. _Not enough._

Rolling in it, itching and aching and burning, Kei took a hold of his cock. Gave himself a few strokes. He palmed at the tip, squeezed at the base, and moaned in relief at the first string of cum.

But it was temporary.

 _Alpha, alpha, alpha,_ chanted his feverish mind, echoing throughout his entire body.

Frustrated tears made his vision blurry.

It was hard to breathe. The nest was too hot. He was too empty.

His alpha wasn’t there.

Slick and dripping, his body took two of his fingers inside with ease, with need. His back arched off the bed, his mouth parted in a soundless scream.

It wasn’t enough.

He added another finger. Curled and twisted and pressed them inside, searching, desperate. He grasped at the sleeves of Kuroo’s jacket, pressed his nose into the collar, bit into the fabric.

Came with a sob that racked through him.

And it still wasn’t enough.

It never was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter feels never-ending, that's because it is, sob. A lot of things that weren't supposed to happen in it did. A lot more were supposed to but didn't.  
> Anyway, thank you all for the comments and the kudos and I just?? Hope you enjoy?? Sob.
> 
> Next chapter: Haiba Lev vs the world, Bokuto Koutarou and, finally, Akiteru.


	3. Savour all the crazy, muddled might

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long and extra packed.

 

Kuroo did not come to school on the day Kei had returned to practice. Early rut, Kenma had explained, and left it at that. But he did take the freshly-washed jacket Kei had practically shoved into his hands, unable to even look at it anymore, even as a part of him flared at the idea of giving it to anyone else. Kenma didn’t comment, other than nodding a promise to give it to Kuroo.

This, however, meant that for the practice match against Kunihira High, Inuoka would take Kuroo’s place.

Except that one the morning of the match, it was Haiba standing in the locker room, practically vibrating with excitement. Pulling on a Nekoma jersey. Telling everyone he was going to become the ace, and believing it.

Paused in the doorway, Kei believed it too. And cursed himself for it, because he wasn't supposed to care. He had known all along it would come to this.

Why then, did he suddenly feel such tightness in his throat?

“Coach Nekomata wanted to try him out,” Yaku explained, pushing past Kei into the room. He was already dressed, rearing to go. “Since Kuroo’s graduating this year. And he has been getting better at receiving, by which I mean he doesn't suck as much as he did a month ago. Which is still not saying a lot.”

On steady feet, Kei walked towards his usual spot in the quieter corner of the room, dropped his bag, dug out his jersey. Spent a little longer looking at the number 11 on it. His number. For now.

Yaku’s swift yet surprisingly gentle kick caught Kei right in the ass. “Whatever ridiculous notions are making you smell like this? Stop them.” His voice was low, meant only for Kei. But he laughed when he saw Kei’s annoyed expression, blatantly ignoring the furtive looks of concern from some of the others who must’ve also noticed the scent of an anxious omega. “That’s better. Now, let's go kick some ass.”

And they did.

Kuroo’s absence may have left a gaping hole in their defence, but it also pushed the more responsible ones to fill it that much more desperately. Others took it as their chance to stand in the spotlight.

Haiba, despite his obvious lack of experience, had the single-minded focus of a lion on a hunt. When his spikes connected, they left the opposite side of the court singed, the opposing team scrambling in their wake.

Kei felt the gap between them widen.

 

-

 

(How very pathetic of him.)

 

-

 

“So the volleyball team has finally come to their senses, huh. Took them fucking long enough.”

Deliberately slowly, Kei raised his head up from the drinking fountain. His body went taut in alert; he hadn’t recognised the sneering voice, but he did recognise the face.

“Can I help you?”

Perhaps it came out a bit harsh and perhaps he was going to regret it very soon, but afternoon practice had been brutal, both coaches merciless in the wake of such successful practice match against Kunihira last week. All Kei wanted at that moment was to go home and sleep. Possibly for a century.

The captain of the basketball team— _Or was it soccer?_ Kei didn’t care enough to remember—leaned on the opposite side of the fountain and it took everything in Kei not to lean back. The scent of something tangy and strong was overpowering, suffocating. Meant to dominate.

“There has been talk,” the alpha said, far too pleased to appear as nonchalant as he wanted to. “About your latest match. Or should I say your last?”

Kei fought back a grimace. “That’s what I said about our first meeting.” He knew it was a bad idea, knew it was a dangerous one, but he couldn’t help it. There was only so much vexation he could handle, before it poured over and covered everything in its sticky, acidic poison. “Yet here you are.”

Immediately, the alpha’s face darkened, his scent intensified. The same way it had on the day he’d swaggered to Kei after school, backed by his equally entitled friends, and told Kei to be his.

Hell no, said Kei, in only slightly politer words.

It hadn’t been a good day then either.

“You think being on a team makes you stronger? Makes you equal?” the alpha hissed, leaning even deeper into Kei’s personal space. “Truth is that it took one infantile alpha to show you and everyone else otherwise. Sure you should be so prickly still? There are only so many alphas left in this school who are willing to teach you your place.”

Kei couldn’t care less about having an alpha. He certainly didn’t need one. Not now, not ever. But the truth that despite his height, despite his reflexes and his experience he was still inferior stung. Even though it wasn’t surprising to him or anyone else.

When Kei didn’t say anything, the alpha’s face twisted with rage.

Strong hands grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, shaking him roughly, just once. A warning. So predictable. So alpha.

And there was something so sadistically satisfying about smothering his own emotions in order to make someone else lose control over theirs.

Because it wasn’t this kind of alpha dominance that scared Tsukishima Kei.

No, it was the kind that caused a shiver down his spine at the mere sound of a familiar lazy drawl. “And what place that might be, hmm?”

Of course Kuroo would choose that exact moment to come back to school. Of course he would see Kei like this. _Of fucking course._

Slowly, the hands holding Kei released their grip. The alpha barely turned his head to look at the intrusion.

Kuroo regarded such blatant display of condescension with an almost cruel twist to his lips, face dark and menacing. He stayed put, arms crossed at his chest but hands clenched tight in fists. Aside from that, he appeared almost relaxed.

Kei knew better. There was a dangerous glint in Kuroo’s eyes, a sharp edge in his scent. He’d seen it before, after one too many insults to their team. But that had been on a volleyball court, where Kuroo was free to be as aggressive as he needed to be. Here, in an empty spot behind the school…

Kei didn’t think he could handle Kuroo losing control.

Because he might lose his, too.

And so he forced his shoulders to relax, put one hand into the pocket of his school slacks and snickered into the other. “My, the omega population in this school must really suck if you’re both here at the same time.”

Kuroo’s eyes snapped instantly to his. Kei felt the pull, the inexplicable longing, and it scared him more than anything ever had.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kuroo took a few unhurried steps closer and gave out an easy shrug. And then, a semblance of a smile. “Must not be your lucky day.”

“Just like every other day, then.”

“Phew, and here I was worried your positivity might’ve dimmed in my absence.”

He looked exhausted, Kei noted. Eyes bloodshot and hair even messier than usual. Kei’s heart clenched.

A disgusted sneer sliced the space between them. “Well that explains how an omega got a spot on the team. Say, Kuroo, does he spread his legs for everyone or just you?” When that didn’t provoke Kuroo into expected burst of rage and fury, the alpha gave Kei another dirty look, wounded alpha pride making it all the uglier. “Guess you might keep your spot after all.”

And with that, as well as an unspoken promise that the rumour mill will be merciless tomorrow, he finally went away.

Leaving Kei drained and painfully aware of this being the first time he saw Kuroo since his heat. If Kuroo knew Kei had spent those torturous days rolling around in his jacket and screaming his name, would he still smile just as softly as he did then? Or would it please him instead? Knowing he was the alpha Kei reached for at his most desperate?

Because no matter how good Kuroo was at controlling his pheromones, he was still that—an alpha. And he was always so damn composed while he effortlessly put Kei through a rollercoaster of emotions every damn time.

( _Did he think of Kei, too? During his rut? Did he imagine the same things Kei did_?)

“Yakkun told me about Saturday,” Kuroo said.

Kei stiffened.

This was why he was glad Kuroo had to skip one more day of practice despite attending classes. This was why he had been ignoring Yaku’s displeased frowns. This was what he did not want to talk about.

Especially not with Kuroo.

It took all of Kei to cock his head to the side, curl a palm against his sweaty neck, and give Kuroo a weak, weak smile. He was so damn _tired_. “Ah, well. It can’t be helped, can it? It was just a matter of time before Haiba took his place.”

Kuroo dared to sound surprised. “Wait, what? You think—you think Lev is going to take your spot?”

Kei hated him a little bit for that incredulity. And didn’t say anything.

Somewhere far, cars were honking. A lone, loud siren of an ambulance came and went. Behind Kei, some girl was urging her friend to run faster or they were going to miss the train.

The sun was slowly setting, afternoon heat giving way to evening chill. Kei huddled closer in his school jacket.

Eventually, Kuroo sighed, an almost bittersweet look taking over face. “You’re normally so smart, Tsukki. But you’re really dumb about this, aren’t you? Come to our gym this Sunday, I’ll show you.”

Kei grimaced and it wasn't pretty. “Show me what? That you're an alpha? That I'm an omega?”

_That this was pointless after all?_

Kuroo stared right into his eyes, unflinching. Serious. “For how long are you going to let this fucked up worldview affect your life?”

Kei couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t stand the words coming out of Kuroo’s mouth, the tone of Kuroo’s voice, the fucking _look_ in his eyes

“I guess we’ll find out,” Kei told him, and like the mature person he was, stomped off in a fit.

_What did Kuroo fucking know about worldviews anyway._

 

-

 

(Kei, on the other hand, knew all about them.

In junior high, he had snuck out to see his brother play at the Spring High. One look—that’s all it took him to find Akiteru on the bench, the only blond and obviously omega on the team.

It didn’t look like he was going to play that day.

Still, this was _volleyball_ , so Kei was going to enjoy himself regardless.

Until the alphas on court started acting weird. They growled a tad too aggressively, shoved a bit too violently, stumbled over nothing.

Until the one Kei had recognised from the pictures Akiteru had shown him went red in the face, swirled around and roared. _At Akiteru._

Who had gone into heat. Right in the middle of a match. Surrounded by too many alphas.

Kei wanted to run to him. Wanted to scream at him. But Yamaguchi’s arms wound tight around his waist and kept him firmly in place. _He’s in heat,_ he might have said. Or it might’ve been, _And he’s in rut._ Kei wasn’t sure. _You can’t._

All he could see was his brother’s terrified face. All he could smell was the sweet, sweet scent of an omega, and the sour, sour stink of shame.

A week later, Akiteru was forced to quit the team.

Just like that, his world was broken. And maybe so had been Kei’s.)

 

-

 

Somehow, Kei found himself on his brother’s doorstep. Before he could think about what he was doing, his hand was already ringing the doorbell.

“Kei?” Akiteru’s surprise lasted only a moment, morphing into a silly, familiar beam. “Come in, come in!” he said, as if this was a normal occurrence. As if this wasn’t Kei’s first time visiting the apartment since his brother had moved into it.

“You don’t have work?” Kei asked in a last attempt to get away.

“Not today. Next shift’s at five in the morning, I think?”

Kei nodded, unsure of what to say. He dropped his bag on the floor, took off his shoes, placed them carefully next to a pile of sneakers and slippers.

Akiteru did not stop smiling.

That, Kei supposed, never changed. And a part of him—the part that had once worshipped the ground his brother walked on, the part that felt stupidly connected to Yaku—took comfort in that knowledge.

“Tea?”

“Coffee.”

Akiteru chuckled, the sound warm and welcoming. “And three teaspoons of sugar?”

Kei narrowed his eyes. “ _Four.”_

“Alright, alright. Just don’t tell mom, okay?”

“I’m not suicidal.”

He followed his laughing brother into the tiny kitchen. As Akiteru busied himself with making their drinks, Kei took the chance to look around.

It was a tiny, cramped space that screamed sleep-deprived university students working evening and night shifts to afford it. The table Kei was sitting at had a tower of books and notebooks pushed haphazardly all the way to the edge. It looked ready to topple any second. The sink had a few dirty mugs stacked on top of each other; the pipes made loud noises when Akiteru turned the water on. The fridge door was covered in funny colourful magnets and a multitude of bright hastily scrawled post-its.

But it was surprisingly clean. Akiteru himself had always been good at keeping things organised, but Kei had never met his roommates. All he knew, from bits and pieces gained during dinner conversations, was that one was a second-year beta, the other a female alpha, and the third came home only to sleep. Usually during the day.

Kei wondered if this was going to be his life in a couple of years.

“You’re doing that thing again. With your fingers.”

Startled, he looked up. Akiteru had a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Kei took it gratefully, cradling its warmth in his palms and inhaling its wonderful nutty scent deep into his lungs. When he took a sip, it was dark and rich and perfectly sweet.

It reminded him of childhood. Out of their entire family, Akiteru had always been the only one who just couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. Ironically, he was also the only one who could make it just right.

Kei had missed it and hadn’t even realised how much.

When was the last time they had sat like this, he wondered. Just the two of them, in a silent kitchen, mugs in hands. They used to do it all the time, hadn’t they? After volleyball, before homework, on early weekend mornings while their parents were still asleep and Akiteru tried his hand at making breakfast. His toast was always a bit burned around the edges, but he also always lathered it in plenty of strawberry jam as he told Kei to keep it a secret from their mother.

For as long as Kei could remember, he had thought the world of his brother. When Akiteru had presented early, as an omega, Kei’s admiration had only grown. In a society where omegas were cherished but thought to be weak and unfit for anything but stay-at-home parenting, his brother had gone after a sport dominated by alphas.

Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Kei had listened as Akiteru told him, over and over, that being an omega didn’t mean being weak or less. That being an omega wasn’t bad. That an omega could be strong. Could be equal.

And Kei had believed him.

How could he not, when his brother was a regular on a volleyball team consisting mostly of alphas? How could he not, when his brother was being courted by the most aggressive of them all?

How pathetically naïve he had been.

Volleyball had turned Akiteru into the school pariah. While the alpha had been the first one to publically shame his brother. Regardless of the fact that it was his rut that had triggered Akiteru’s heat in the first place.

It was easy, to blame an omega.

Kei clenched the mug in his hands a little bit tighter, then forced his fingers to relax, afraid of breaking the ceramic.

“I joined the volleyball team,” he said, eyes focused on the dark liquid.

“So I’ve heard,” Akiteru replied, without a hint of anything but Akiteru. Kind, gentle and doting Akiteru who still couldn’t make toast that wasn’t burned at the edges and who still would sneak sweets for Kei. If Kei let him. “It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“Then why?” Kei burst out, voice rising. Surprising both himself and his brother. “Why did you just give up? Why did you let them blame you for getting disqualified? Make you quit? If volleyball was so fun, _why_?”

“Kei—”

“You told me it didn’t matter you were an omega. You told me you had a place on court. You told me you were going to show them.”

“I did.”

“Yet you—”

“—gave up. I’m sorry, Kei, I’m so sorry.”

Kei slumped back in his chair. “You let them walk all over you. Force you to take all of the blame. As if it wasn’t them who told you not to wear a scent patch during the game in the first place.”

“We thought it would be better if I could scent how aggressive the spikers were. Make it easier to predict what they would do. And we thought that maybe my scent would affect them, too. Perhaps enough for them to avoid my blocks altogether if another option was available.”

Kei snorted. “Great plan.”

“It’s not like it’s cheating. Alphas use their pheromones in games all the time, often to scare off weaker players.”

Kei was well aware of that. Even Kuroo, who normally suppressed all hints of his scent, often exuded the kind of aura on court that make Kei want to bare his neck in submission and purr.

“I don’t know why,” Akiteru said, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Maybe it was shock from what happened. Maybe I was weak back then. Maybe I had no idea what I was even doing.”

What Kei saw in his brother’s eyes broke his heart all over again.

“But, Kei, what I do know is that I regret it. I regret that I didn’t listen to my own instincts and hadn’t worn the patch. I regret not fighting back afterwards. I could have shouldered the blame and moved on. Things happen, teams lose all the time. I could have fought. But I didn’t. I regret _that_. And I regret that I gave up. That I let you see me give up.”

Kei could see it now, as clearly as he had seen his brother cry in the middle of the night, curled pitifully on the floor and biting into the sleeve of his shirt to keep the sobs from waking anyone up.

“What I don’t regret is trying volleyball in the first place. Not once did I regret that.”

And Kei believed him.

The way he had believed him as a kid, only firmer. Because Akiteru back then did not have regrets—he had dreams upon dreams. He had castles in the skies that he had shared with Kei.

Akiteru from now was sharing the truth.

It warmed Kei more than coffee and memories ever could.

“I’m playing again, you know.” At Kei’s startle, Akiteru waved a careless hand. “Nothing serious, just with some people from university. Just for fun.”

There was that word again: fun. And shockingly, Kei was starting to understand its meaning.

But more than anything, Kei just didn’t want to ever have the same kind of crushing regret as Akiteru did. He could do that much for himself.

Outside Akiteru’s warm apartment, night was descending fast upon Tokyo. Inside, Kei couldn’t feel the chill of it. The remains of his coffee had long gone cold, but he declined Akiteru’s offering for more. Just as he declined his offer to stay the night, watch movies and talk.

Some other time, Kei said. And meant it.

He took out his phone and dialled Kuroo’s number, certain that if he didn’t do this now he never would.

“Tsukki?” Kuroo sounded a little bit breathless, a lot more unsure. And that, together with his brother’s words still fresh in his memory, gave Kei the final push.

“Kuroo-san, you told me I could take on an alpha. That you could teach me how.”

Kuroo’s husky, giddy laugh was worth even the annoyance that was his brother, lurking suspiciously next to the sink, pretending to be washing dishes.

“So, who’s Kuroo?”

 

-

 

Nekoma lost in the preliminaries and never made it to the Inter High. And on a misty rainy Sunday after that, Kei was standing in front of Fukurodani Academy’s massive gym.

Kuroo had texted him the details the night before, as promised. Kei had made the mistake of replying. What followed was a blur of terrible emoji choices, too many typos and grammatically incorrect sentences, and cat videos that spanned well into the night, until Kei fell asleep with his phone still in hand.

Sleepy, damp-haired and shivering in his windbreaker, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. Except maybe admitting to watching science documentaries in his free time. Instead of teasing, as Kei had fully expected him to, Kuroo had launched into a passionate debate about the latest discovery in chemistry. If Kei had been anyone else, he might’ve called it adorable.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t regret that either.

“Hey hey hey, my new blocker is here!” The alpha that appeared in the gym doorway was a big one, as tall as Kuroo but bulkier, biceps bunching with corded muscles. But his shockingly golden eyes were clear and warm, his wide grin staggeringly genuine.

“He’s not your anything, you dumb owl!” Kuroo protested from somewhere inside before coming into view by unceremoniously pushing the other alpha to the side. That earned him a shove in return. They bickered for a while and Kei took that time to compose himself. This morning, his phone screen had greeted him with a simple “sweet dreams Tsukki and good morning”, stamped 2:05am. He had almost crawled back under blankets, determined to never go outside again. And looking at Kuroo now, maybe he should have. “Glad you could make it, Tsukki.”

“Tsukki, huh?” The other alpha smiled even broader, then hopped down the few steps to stand with Kei, mindless of the light drizzle. “Bokuto Koutarou, ace and captain of Fukurodani. Nice to finally meet you, Tsukki!”

Kei looked at the offered palm, a bit bewildered. Kuroo pointed a thumb in the alpha’s—Bokuto’s—direction. “He’s the guy whom you’re gonna be blocking for the next few Sundays.”

Looking at all that muscle, Kei had his doubts, but he shook the hand. “It’s Tsukishima.”

Bokuto cocked his head this way and that, brows furrowing then smoothing out. Then he clasped Kei on the shoulder. “Nope, you look like Tsukki to me.”

That’s when Kei noticed it—right at the base of Bokuto’s neck, where his shirt collar didn’t quite reach, was a bite mark. A claim. _On an alpha._

It wasn’t impossible, of course. But it wasn’t common.

While sharper bigger canines weren’t needed to bite and claim someone, only an alpha’s bite didn’t need it to be a two-way thing to form a bond. Heaven forbid someone weaker owned an alpha and dared to broadcast it to the world.

Bokuto seemed to be completely at ease with his mark. Even if something was oddly off about his scent; like his bold freshly cut grass hadn’t blended properly with the subtle summer rain. Like he was mated yet not.

But the swirling mix was still pleasant, almost calming. It enveloped Kei like a hug as Bokuto steered him inside.  

The gym was empty and therefore not exactly warm, but Kei’s glasses fogged up anyway. Bokuto’s shoulder’s sagged as he, too, swept the room absentmindedly. “Akaashi’s probably not gonna make it today so it’s just the three of us.”

“Akaashi is a setter,” Kuroo explained as he rolled in the ball cart. The net was already up and all of the overhead light were on. “But since he’s tragically absent, I’ll set.”

Kei raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Kuroo gave him a look. “I totally can! Besides, this guy made it to the top five this year, so he should be good regardless of my abilities. He’d better be.”

Bokuto nodded, previous instance of dejection forgotten. Now he appeared almost menacing in his excitement. “Let’s see if you’re as good as Kuroo says you are, Tsukki.”

Kei made a point not to look at Kuroo then.

He knew he had zero chances of stopping Bokuto, just from the looks and scent alone. But he sure as hell was going to kill at least one of his spikes.

 

-

 

It turned out to be harder than he had even imagined, and he imagined pretty much impossible. His palms burned. His fingers ached. But slowly, steadily, he adjusted.

And when Bokuto ran away from his block—

Kuroo’s face was smug and proud and amazed all at once. “Did you just—”

Bokuto shot him a glare. “I did not!”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Did not.”

—it felt good. Too much so for such a small accomplishment. But it was a step, Kei decided.

“You did run from that block, Bokuto-san.”

Anyone else would have gotten a whiplash from how fast Bokuto turned towards the new voice, but it had taken Kei less than an hour to deduce that Bokuto existed outside of laws of nature.

“AKAASHI!”

Leaning on the doorframe was the most beautiful omega Kei had ever seen. He stood tall, elegant fingers curled around the handle of an umbrella, and had the kind of natural grace that only members of wealthy traditional households possessed.

Bokuto was on him in an instant. He engulfed the omega in his embrace, laughing as their cheeks rubbed together, burrowed his face in the slender neck, mumbling something meant for the omega’s ears only, and sighed loudly in content.

And _oh_ , _that’s where the rain in Bokuto’s scent came from._

Kei averted his eyes.

Just in time to see a ball fly right at him. It fell gently into his arms.

Kuroo winked from across the net then ducked under it, looking like a Cheshire cat. “I hate to be a cliché but… I told you so.”

Kei tossed the ball right back at him. “Being this smug contradicts your earlier ‘I’m always nice’ statement, Kuroo-san.”

“I’m not smug, I’m proud.” A pause. “Okay, maybe a little smug. But that was a very good block.”

Outwardly, Kei rolled his eye. Inside, he felt such pleasant warmth that couldn’t help but wonder if Kuroo was ever going to stop affecting him like this. It wasn’t even Kuroo’s proximity that caused the nervous twitch in his fingers, but everything about Kuroo, from his dedication to anything he did to his ridiculously nerdy science jokes. Even his occasional overprotectiveness that extended to everyone on the team and the easy way in which he gave praise to others but never to himself now seemed endearing more than anything.

Maybe he should have let Bokuto spike a ball in his face. Surely a head injury would heal this? Whatever _this_ was.

As if summoned by the thought, Bokuto came back whining. Both of his hands were latched onto Akaashi’s, who appeared to be unimpressed by all of it. “C’mon, Akaashi, just a few.”

Kei bowed politely when Kuroo made the introductions.

“Don’t you wanna see how amazing Tsukki is, Akaashi? After how much Kuroo has talked about him? I promise, it’ll be just a few spikes.”

Even if Kei hadn’t been standing so close to Kuroo, he would still have noticed the way he blushed all the way down to his neck.

Kei felt his own face heat up in response.

“Yes,” Akaashi said, with something absolutely devilish about it. “I would very much like to play against Tsukishima-kun. If you two are up for it?”

Bokuto’s face brightened like the sun. “We can go out to eat afterwards. Right, Akaashi?”

With a barely audible sigh, Kei resigned himself to his fate.

As he expected, ‘just a few spikes’ somehow stretched into another hour of suffering, by the end of which Kei could feel his fingers tremble. But it did help that Kuroo looked just a winded; with Akaashi setting, Bokuto’s spikes were even less of a joke than they had been before.

Bokuto himself, of course, looked like he could go for another hour or two. Or maybe three. Now Kei understood why apparently all of his juniors always ran away from any extra practice.

Kei didn’t have any energy left to run and that was how he ended up sitting in a cosy sukiyaki place, getting only occasionally annoyed at Kuroo and Bokuto as they piled more food on his plate.

“You’re so skinny, Tsukki! I was honestly worried one of my spikes was going to break your arms or something,” Bokuto complained. He made a grab for a juicy slice of beef with his chopsticks, but Kuroo was faster. Bokuto made a loud protest and stole the last piece of tofu right off Kuroo’s plate. This meant war.

“You’ll get used to them,” Akaashi said from across the table, bringing Kei’s attention to himself. “Soon most of their antics will be just background noise.”

“I cannot wait.”

They didn’t look when there was a loud splash and a hissed curse, followed by guffawing laughter.

Sometimes it was better not to know.

Maybe that was why Kei pretended he hadn’t noticed the lack of a bite mark on Akaashi’s neck.

 

-

 

(When Kuroo walked him home that night, Kei did his best to ignore how sweaty his hands had felt and how badly he wanted Kuroo to hold them.)

 

-

 

With summer break and therefore another training camp just around the corner, Nekoma’s practices lengthened and extended to Saturdays.

Running behind the rest of the team, Kei cursed coach Nekomata who apparently really, really hated losing to his old rivals. Who all, coincidentally, were joining them first at Shinzen and then at Fukurodani in a couple of weeks.

He also cursed coach Nekomata for inflicting Haiba on him and Kenma.

“Why, exactly, are you here?” he’d asked when Haiba deliberately slowed down to match their pace. Normally, the loud annoyance would be running with the rest of their team, eager to be back at the gym faster. Or just being Haiba.

Today he had decided to break the comforting silence and welcoming lack of pheromones that Kei enjoyed most about training with Kenma.

“Coach told me to keep on learning from you. What was it he said before the Kunihira match?”

“That you can never read block like Tsukishima, but you can still learn something useful from him. Probably,” Kenma replied, already too tired for any of this.

“Yes, that! And that I need to connect better with Kenma-san.”

“Just Kenma is fine.”

Kei snickered at Haiba’s flustered apologies, but in truth it had taken Kei some time to adjust as well. He didn’t even call Yamaguchi by his first name, whom he’d known since childhood. But Kuroo once mentioned that seniority was a sore spot for Kenma. The least Kei could do was to respect Kenma’s wishes as thanks for his soothing presence whenever Kei needed it.

Running with Haiba wasn’t as bad as Kei had feared. He didn’t talk, and he didn’t try to ask questions, he only occasionally hummed some cheery tune under his breath, completely unware of doing so himself.

That was why it was so surprising when he suddenly stopped with a loud, “Ah!” And pointed at one of the big trees that lined the river bank that was their usual jogging route.

Kei squinted. Blinked. There, on a high branch, gripping tight into the bark, was a cat. A mere kitten, judging by the size.

It meowled pitifully as a strong gust of wind shook the tree mercilessly from the roots up.

Haiba was skittering down the hill before anyone could stop him. All they could do was follow suit.

“You’re the kitty from before! Did you get stuck?” Haiba crooned. “Let’s get you down, then.”

But when he jumped to grab it, the cat bristled and slashed at his hand with its sharp claws, then jumped over to a higher branch, way out of even Haiba’s reach.

Haiba shook off his bloody palm, undeterred by the damage. “I saw it earlier this morning, near our school. It run away from me then, too,” he explained.

“If you jump, it’ll just get more scared,” Kei pointed out.

Haiba paused to think, looking around for possible solutions. Then his eyes landed on Kenma. Kei saw the exact moment the idea entered his crazy mind. Kenma did too.

“I’m really bad with animals,” he said, utterly convincing. “And even if I wasn’t, I won’t be able to reach it.”

“But we can’t just leave it there!”

Kenma took out his phone. “I’ll call Kuroo and the others. Maybe they can help.”

But Haiba wouldn’t have any of it. He zoned in on Kei.

“Absolutely not.”

“The others probably already made it back. What if the kitty falls? What if it gets hurt?”

“Yes, Tsukishima,” Kenma muttered, most of his attention still on the screen of his phone, fingers typing furiously, “will you face that kind of responsibility? Kuroo might cry.”

Kei’s face twisted, which just turned Kenma’s expression even more wicked.

 _Traitor_ , Kei thought as he climbed on Haiba’s shoulders. The cat regarded them with obvious distrust. Kei couldn’t blame it; he didn’t trust Haiba not to trip either.

Gently, tentatively he reached for the cat. It stilled at first, poised for attack. But the calm omega pheromones Kei was emitting for its sake were doing its job. Slowly, it leaned forward. Sniffed at Kei’s hand. Then inched closer, to lick at it.

He almost had it when another burst of wind toppled the animal over.

And Kei couldn’t react fast enough to catch it.

But Haiba did.

The cat landed right in his palm, belly first.

Now truly terrified, it screeched and leapt off with all its might, disappearing behind a rock soon after. Surprised, Haiba took a shaky step back, then another, and finally lost his balance.

Then, Kei was falling.

 

-

 

“Tsukishima, are you alright?”

“Do I look alright to you?” he snapped.

They had landed in a pile of limbs and wet grass and no permanent injuries. Kei’s elbow was stained green and Haiba’s knee was scraped raw. They both had mild nosebleeds. Miraculously, Kei’s glasses had survived intact.

Haiba dared to look sheepish as he wiped the last of the blood off his face. “Sorry. But at least the kitty is alright?”

The damn creature was lounging on the rock, basking in the sun and licking its paws without a care in the world. If Kei didn’t know better, he would’ve said it was mocking them.

He would’ve glared at it anyway if Yaku’s shout didn’t have him turning. “What are you guys doing?” The entire team had gathered on the gently sloping hill, looking at the trio below. They must have made quite a picture, judging by the faces. “We were wondering what the hell was taking you so long and decided to come back.”

Yamamoto whistled. “Holy shit, did you two fight? I smell blood.” Then, panicked, “Shit.”

Kuroo was tramping down the hill at an alarmingly fast speed. He didn’t even glance at Haiba as he uttered through gritted teeth, “Lev, I need you to leave. Now.”

With only a moment’s hesitation, Haiba did leave, uncharacteristically solemn. Submissive even, as he passed Kuroo. Kenma left too, after a quick assessment of Kuroo.

Eventually, they all did. Because the day their team would learn to be inconspicuous was still far, far away.

Kei hoped they were better at giving excuses to their coaches, at least.

He stood up from the ground, dusting off his clothes. His shorts had another grass stain and his shirt had a few damp patches. “Are you going to lose it?” Kei asked, finally looking at Kuroo.

“You smell like Lev and blood.”

“And your control is better than this.”

“Just… Give me a minute, okay?”

Kei nodded. “There was a kitten. Stuck on a tree. We couldn’t reach it.”

As he explained what happened, steady and unhurried, Kuroo’s breathing eventually evened out. He rubbed a palm against his flushed face. Sighed heavily. Leaned back against the tree trunk.

Kei waited.

“I don’t like it,” Kuroo finally said, defeated. “Losing control like this. It almost makes me wish I was a beta.”

“You never do, though.”

It was a fact that Kei both loathed and appreciated. Because his own self-restraint was a quickly thinning thread.

Ever since they met, he’d allowed Kuroo to drag him to places, to include him in Kuroo’s circle of friends, to make him _try_ and then _try_ _harder_ at volleyball, of all things. He allowed Kuroo to make him feel things he never wanted to.

But worst of all, he liked it. And that was on him.

Whereas Kuroo… Kuroo was still Kuroo.

“I never do? Tsukki, I _marked_ you. And didn’t plan on ever telling you that. I almost started a fight, _at school_. And I scared Lev, of all people. If he hadn’t left, I…” Kuroo’s laugh, as he shook his head, was mirthless. “Shit, I’ll have to apologise to him later.”

What could Kei possibly say to that? That he was an omega and as much as he wanted to deny it, a part of him had revelled in those things?

“It’s what alphas do. You claim and you own,” he pointed out instead, even though he knew better now. Even though he knew Kuroo. And yet…

“Fuck, Tsukki, I don’t want to own you! You know that. You know I don’t want you to be grateful or to feel obligated. I want _you_ to want _me_. I want us to be just Kuroo and Tsukki.”

Maybe Yaku had been wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Kuroo who was a love-struck idiot.

Because Kei did know all of that. Believed it, even.

Kuroo heaved another sigh and his voice dropped. “I know I should be better at controlling… _this_. Myself, I guess? But I don’t know how. But I’m working on it. Because I know it scares you. It scares me, too.”

But maybe Kei had also been wrong. Maybe it wasn’t just him constantly thrown off his balance.

Maybe Kuroo was struggling too. And the only reason why he hadn’t done anything about it was because he had been waiting for Kei all along.

So Kei took the necessary steps forward and kissed Kuroo the way he’d been wanting to for weeks and weeks and weeks.

Kuroo met him halfway.

There were no butterflies and no fireworks. No magic and no tingling.

There was only the surprised hitch of Kuroo’s breath that Kei felt rather than heard and the softness of his lips as they moved impossibly gently against Kei’s. The solid feel of his broad chest and the tender embrace of his strong arms. The unexpected taste of him on Kei’s tongue and the familiar scent of him wrapping Kei in a cocoon of safety and warmth and want.

Kei pressed closer, closer, greedy _._ Kuroo’s arms tightened. His groan when Kei pulled at his lower lip with his teeth was exhilarating. Kei wanted more.

Kuroo did too.

“Tsukki,” he whispered, feverish, lips never leaving Kei’s for long. He licked into his mouth, caressed his tongue, then pulled back to kiss down his jaw. “Tsukki.”

Kei’s fingers dug painfully into Kuroo’s bare forearms, leaving angry red marks. He ached. From the slow burn that was far too pleasant. Far too addicting.

Kuroo’s mouth inched lower, lower. Nibbled at the skin of Kei's neck, soothed it with his lips. “Can I…?”

He sounded so disbelieving, so unsure. Yet so happy at the same time. 

A part of Kei, the one that wanted to run and hide, was trembling. But another wanted it so, so badly. “…Yes.”

He couldn’t suppress the embarrassing moan that built low in his throat as Kuroo rubbed his wrist against his scent gland. Shyly, so unbelievably shyly, he covered Kei in pine and earth and Kuroo. Marked him.

The awe in Kuroo’s eyes was palpable, wide and glowing.

Kei buried his face in Kuroo’s neck, needing a moment to himself. To think. To breathe.

“Now I smell like you,” he mumbled into the fabric of Kuroo’s t-shirt.

He could feel the ridiculous pout in Kuroo's voice, even as his hands started to rub soothing circles into Kei's back. Because that, too, was a part of Kuroo. "I don't smell enough like you, though."

And Kei had the startling realisation that no, he still didn’t need an alpha. Never had, never will.

Which made simply wanting one all the more terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Training Camp shenanigans AT LAST. Which is actually when Akaashi was originally supposed to appear. But I struggled with so many scenes in this chapter that, in the end, I just said screw it and gave myself Akaashi. He's my most trusted brand of stress relief medication.  
> Once again thank you all SO MUCH for all the lovely comments and kudos and asdfggjhgkj. I'm literally crying. Like, every day. I honestly wouldn't have finished this chapter without all of your support.  
> (And yes, the cat scene is definitely taken straight from the Nekoma OVA. It was too precious to pass by.)


	4. A thousand miles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which it took a village to raise Tsukishima Kei.

Training camp was its own brand of hell, Kei decided. And they hadn't even moved past the warm-ups yet.

But he could feel it in his bones, as if they too were already anticipating the exhaustion. Just looking at Ubugawa's serves made him want to pack his bags and leave. Or maybe to stay and see how far he could go against them.

"They're no joke," Yaku said from Kei's left, as if reading his mind. "Neither are Shinzen's combos."

Kei hummed noncommittally, opting to drink from his water bottle instead. His mind was already analysing every combination play he had seen so far. Yaku, he knew, would take care of the serves. He always did.

"But you've apparently been practicing.” Kei ignored the blatant flash of satisfaction in Yaku’s scent. “Against Fukuroudani’s Bokuto, I bet?"

In that very same gym, the few times when Fukuroudani didn’t have their own matches. That's why it felt so strange to see the place packed now, filled with noise that was equal parts excitement and groaning, when it had become so familiar to Kei empty. Never silent though, because Bokuto was his loudest when playing and Kuroo liked to laugh, especially at Bokuto. Thank the universe for Akaashi, who understood Kei’s pain in more ways than one. He, too, sometimes needed a moment to collect himself at the sight of his alpha’s joy.

"It was Kuroo-san's idea."

Yaku nodded, bending down to stretch. "They've been close since their first camp together, back during our freshman year. They both sucked so bad then." He let out a nostalgic chuckle, though it was muffled against his shirt as he reached for his ankles. Kei started on his own pre-game set. "Guess that made them train together. Or, you know, like attracts like."

Looking at Bokuto now, knowing the power of his spikes intimately, it was hard to imagine him ever sucking. But maybe all first years did, at some point.

Not everyone was a genius of Kageyama Tobio's calibre.

A commotion at the door had them both turning, along with everyone else in the sunlit gym. It was early in the morning still, but already the air was hot and dry; Tokyo, Kei was learning, was merciless in the summer.

Led by Kuroo, Yamamoto and Kai, Karasuno stepped inside. Immediately, all attention was on them, whispers raising like a tidal wave. So far only Nekoma had the misfortune of playing against the unpredictable crows, but Nekoma was a bunch of old gossiping cat ladies and now everyone present was eager to know how accurate their assessment had been.

“Huh, their freaky duo is missing.”

Kei had noticed it too—and felt an irrational surge of frustration. He wanted to stop their quick, if only to see the irritation on the shrimp’s face. Or better yet, on the king’s.

It was Kuroo who explained. Having finished the introductions and therefore relieved of his duty as the welcoming committee, he returned to his own team and must’ve caught Yaku’s puzzled words as he approached. “They failed their exams.”

“So they are as dumb as they look,” Kei said, feeling validated.

Kuroo grinned, mischievous and predatory, as he sat down for his arm and chest stretches. Kei willed himself not to look away. "A pity, that. I wanted to see you block their quick."

Of course he did. It was one of his annoyingly endearing qualities, of which there were many, Kei was quickly discovering.

His knowing smile, the one he was spotting right then, was yet another one. Kei wanted to wipe it off his face. Possibly with his own lips.

As if knowing that, too, Kuroo's face, half obscured by his bicep as it was, took on a nervous note. There had been a lot of that going on recently.

Just yesterday, Kuroo had walked Kei home after practice. It was completely unnecessary since Kei took the train and Kuroo had to take one in the opposite direction, but it was something Kuroo just did and it was slowly turning into yet another annoyingly endearing Kuroo-thing.

Kei hadn’t protested.

It had been nice if a little nerve-wracking to sit beside Kuroo on a half-empty evening train, listening to his wild scientific theories and teasing him for his terrible puns, their hands almost touching but not quite.

Just like they did now, planted firmly on the floor mere inches away from each other. All Kei had to do was extend his fingers just a little and he would have Kuroo's hand in his. Would feel that wonderful warmth seep into his own skin.

He twisted in the opposite direction, into a different stretch, and lifted a hand to wipe at the perspiration on his forehead. Which turned out to be his biggest mistake yet.

Immediately, Kuroo’s scent assaulted his senses. Pine and earth and alpha. Now mixed with Kei’s own subtler, sweeter forest berries.

He dropped his hand as if burned.

To Kei’s left, Yaku let out an amused snort.

To his right, Kuroo was giving him a worried look. “Tsukki?”

This time, he had asked. He’d stopped in the middle of their short walk from the train station, illuminated by the many streetlights, so reminiscent of their first night in Sendai, months ago. He even looked just as nervous and fumbling when he’d asked if he could scent-mark Kei before they left in the morning.

Kei didn’t regret saying yes.

He shook his head, hoping Kuroo would understand and let it go.

 

-

 

Kuroo did not understand nor did he let it go. He’d used the first available excuse to drag Kei away from everyone else; they’d get the needed extra bibs for the matches, he said, before anyone else could volunteer.

Kei ignored the few lewd looks they got as they passed. If these people thought they were sneaking out to make out, they were tragically mistaken. And clearly did not know Kuroo Tetsurou as well as Kei did. Which really shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did.

Fukuroudani’s storage room, similar to Nekoma’s but almost twice as big, was on the second floor of an adjacent building. Dutifully, Kei followed Kuroo up the rickety stairs, heart thumping so loud it must’ve been audible.

If saying no wouldn’t have made him look all the more suspicious and far too rude, he would have done it.

It was dim inside, the only light spilling in from the couple small windows on the far wall. Absentmindedly, Kei noted the hastily thrown mess of sports bags and white jerseys with gold and black accents.

The door shut behind him with a soft click.

“I hope you do actually know where they keep the extras?”

Kuroo hummed a yes but did not move from his spot at the door. “The big box behind the shelves. Yes, that’s the one.”

Deliberately efficiently, Kei dug into the massive plastic bin and took out the bright turquoise and yellow pile of neatly folded fabric. But as he straightened back up, he did not take a single step towards the exit, where Kuroo was still standing guard and preventing any possibility of escape.

It really was unfair how good he looked just then, cast in shadows, face gently solemn. Kei held the bibs closer, clinging to them like they were a physical barrier. Unlike his mental ones, it couldn’t be shattered with just one smile.

“If you don’t tell me, I won’t know what’s wrong.”

“I did tell you. Nothing is wrong.”

Kuroo approached him slowly, his pheromones enveloping the room like a cloak, warm and loved and comforting. Even though there really was no need; Kei was as far from being distressed as possible.

Gently, Kuroo took the pile off Kei’s hands and placed it carefully on the nearest empty shelf. Then he cradled Kei’s hands in his, rubbing slow circles into the back of his palms.

“If the scent is too much…”

Why, _why_ couldn’t have Kuroo been someone who just didn’t care? Why couldn’t he be happy with simply _having_? Why did he have to be so, well, _Kuroo_?

Except it was precisely because he was Kuroo that Kei wasn’t afraid of being honest. “It’s not,” he said, feeling raw and vulnerable. His fingers clenched tight around the hands holding his. “I like it. That’s why.”

A beat of silence. Then another. A choked sound that forced Kei to finally tear his gaze away from the strip of sunlight on the dark floor. Only to find Kuroo looking flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down to his neck.

“ _Tsukki_ ,” the alpha said helplessly.

“Could you please stop looking so happy?”

“Nope, I really, really can’t.” With the same besotted, silly grin that did funny things to Kei’s entire system, Kuroo pulled him into an easy hug. “But I could kiss you.”

Startled, Kei pulled back. And before he could even fully process the words, Kuroo’s lips were on his. Kissing him sweetly, languidly. The last of Kei’s walls crumbled like sand castles under waves.

“The bibs,” he whispered against Kuroo’s mouth.

“Right,” Kuroo murmured back, and made no move to stop either.

“Yamamoto-san will be unbearable.” Tentative but unabashed, Kei snuck a hand under Kuroo’s t-shirt, on the warm skin of his lower back.

Kuroo smiled into another kiss. If they didn’t stop now, anyone with eyes would be able to tell what they had been up to. “You can handle him.”

“Can you handle coach?”

“For you? Anything.”

“Kuroo-san.”

“Yes?”

“That was too embarrassing even for you.”

“What can I say– “

“Nothing, you can say nothing.”

But even as Kei said it, he snuggled closer, inhaling the musky earthy scent, soaking in all that was Kuroo. For just a little longer.

He could always use one of Karasuno’s managers against Yamamoto.

 

-

 

(He did end up using Shimizu Kiyoko on Yamamoto. Too bad it didn’t work on Yaku, too.)

 

-

 

Karasuno's demon duo arrived fashionably late, with a literal bang, sunset flooding the gym through wide-open doors.

Kei was almost glad there were only a few more matches to go and Nekoma’s last opponent was to be Ubugawa, not Karasuno.

 _Almost_.

Inadvertently, his eyes found Kuroo. Who was looking right back. With a grin that was all teeth. Behind him, Yaku was flexing his fingers, unable to stand still. And Yamamoto was already burning. Even Kenma’s mouth had the kind of upward tilt that made him look cat-like and intense.

They were going to rip the crows straight out of the sky and devour them alive. And Kei was looking forward to it.

Sadly, before any of that, there were diving drills and other tortures to go through. Because Bokuto Koutarou alone was one thing—Bokuto Koutarou surrounded by his equally exhausting team was completely another. Even if Nekoma did put up one hell of a fight.

“Tomorrow, we’re shutting that damn owl up,” Kuroo cursed, breathing heavy. This wasn’t their first punishment of the day.

“You could smother him in his sleep,” Kei suggested, only half-joking. His hands _hurt_. And the smug look on Bokuto’s face was fucking annoying.

“Will you help me hide the body?”

“No, I will be distracting Akaashi-san.”

Kenma made a half-assed attempt at pretending to be doing a dive. “You trust Kuroo to successfully bury a body alone?”

“He’ll mess it up,” Yaku agreed. Even he was looking winded and ready to fall asleep right there and then. “Don’t do it, Tsukishima.”

Kuroo chucked a dirty face towel at Yaku. “Don’t listen to them, Tsukki. We’ll be like Isaac and Miria.”

“You’ll be in jail,” Yaku corrected, flinging the towel right back at Kuroo.

“I’m not visiting you there,” Kenma added, unperturbed by it all.

Kuroo’s momentary speechlessness at such “heartless betrayal, kitten, how could you” gave Inuoka the chance to pipe in. “Does that mean Kuroo-san wants to be with Tsukishima for all eternity?”

Loaded, awkward silence.

Inuoka, suddenly self-conscious, attempted a smile. It came out lopsided and wobbly. “I mean, Isaac and Miria did drink the immortality elixir, didn’t they?”

Just as Kei considered relocating to another city, they were saved from any future embarrassment by coach Nekomata yelling at them to hurry up and get on court, where they eventually pulled a 2-1 win on Ubugawa. By then the topic of murders and eternal partnerships was thankfully forgotten.

All in all, Kei decided, the first day of training camp hadn’t been so bad. Even if dinner turned into a rowdy affair during which Kuroo, Yaku _and_ Bokuto attempted to make him eat more than any person possibly could, including growing teenage boys.

But at least omegas were allowed to shower first. Mostly because alphas, being the majority, still had to split into age groups as well.

Having indulged in a few extra minutes under the hot, hot spray and feeling marginally more alive, Kei also took his time walking down the empty Fukuroudani hallways, relishing the temporary darkness and stillness that he knew would be broken as soon as he stepped inside the classroom assigned for omegas. Walking beside him, Akaashi shared the sentiment.

They didn’t talk, both too exhausted and comfortable enough with each to forgo small talk entirely. Not for the first time since meeting him, Kei noted how incredibly soothing Akaashi’s presence could be. On the outside, he was beauty and dignity and grace. A perfect omega. On the inside, he had blatant disregard for societal norms and expectations set for omegas. Kei almost envied him.

Their path to the second floor was blocked by an alpha sitting hunched on the steps. Or rather, waiting for them, because he scrambled up as soon as he caught a whiff of their scent. His white shirt and green shorts marked him as Shinzen, a mere first-year by the looks of it. Big and tall, but too awkward in his limbs and lacking the kind of confidence most third-years displayed.

“Akaashi-san,” he said, in a voice that was surprisingly deep if a bit shy.

Kei hesitated, unsure if he should go. Akaashi shook his head minutely. They both knew what was coming.

The alpha bowed at the waist. “Please let me court you.”

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi said, firmly but not unkindly. “I already have an alpha.”

The boy shot back up, frowning. “But he hasn’t marked you. Yet he dares to call you his.”

“That, I believe, is between him and me. And is in no way relevant to my answer.”

“Is he using you? Is he holding your spot on the team against you?”

Akaashi’s scent flared, then died out just as quickly. He was angry, Kei realised. _Furious_. As if mere implication that Bokuto could be anything but kind was enough to send him spiralling down. Kei could sympathise. “Of course not.”

“Then—”

“Ah, excuse me,” Kei cut in before things escalated further. “This is all very exciting and all, but it’s been a very long day and we’d like to get some rest. So if you could move?”

The alpha sniffed in his direction, as if noticing Kei for the first time. “You’re Kuroo’s.”

“Actually, I’m Tsukishima.”

The boy cocked his head, not understanding. Kei was not surprised in the slightest. And if the boy suddenly letting them through with only a “please think about it, Akaashi-san” had something to do with Kuroo’s name, Kei chose not to think about it.

It was a can of worms he was not prepared to deal with at that moment.

Once safely out of earshot, Akaashi spoke again. “Could you not mention this to Bokuto-san? He’ll be upset.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

There was more to it, Kei could tell. And he’d seen multiple alphas eye Akaashi, interest piquing once they took note of his bare neck. But now wasn’t the time for that, either.

Once they stepped inside the bright-lit classroom, they were greeted by Hinata Shouyou in all his loudness and shortness. "Ah, you're the annoying blocker from Nekoma!"

The room had been emptied of desks and the floor was lined with neat rows of futons and an array of sports bags along the wall. It was also mostly empty. Aside from Kenma playing next to Hinata, Kei could only see Inuoka, the blond beta setter from Karasuno and a snoring lump of blankets in the very far corner, next to a window.

“Ah, it’s the shrimp,” Kei replied in a bored tone. “Have you shrunk down even further?”

Hinata let out a sound that could not have possibly been in human language, but at a visible flinch from Kenma he hushed instantly. Still pouting, he sat back down and mumbled, "Shouldn’t you be staying with your alpha anyway?"

“Hinata,” the blond—Sugawara? —chastised gently, probably noting the displeased involuntary twitch in Kei’s eyebrow.

"It's not allowed," Kenma explained, which in itself was surprising. “Precisely because some people are bonded, or something akin to it, alphas and omegas are to stay in separate rooms. Betas usually bunk with omegas, because there are so few of you."

Yaku, who had stopped in the doorway at Kenma’s rare display of socialisation, all teary-eyed, felt the need to specify. Kei prayed he wasn’t considering adopting Hinata. “What he means is horny teenage alphas should be quarantined.”

Hinata nodded sagely, which only succeeded in making him look anything but. "Makes sense."

Kei stopped paying attention to anyone else in the room the moment his body touched the sheets, safely between Yaku and Akaashi, away from movement and noise. The last of his energy went into putting away his glasses and reaching for his headphones.

His phone screen lit up with a cat emoji-filled “sweet dreams tsukki” just before he closed his eyes.

Thankfully, Kei was too tired to send anything equally embarrassing back.

 

-

 

The next few days went by in a blur. Between national level aces and punishments straight from hell, Kei didn’t have time to think about anything at all until he was sitting in the bus back to Nekoma. But at least Yamaguchi had promised to come visit for a few days during summer break. Kei had seen his new serves and desperately needed to know what had triggered that subtle change in his personality. Or rather, who was causing him to finally step into his alpha shoes. Although Kei did have an idea.

For a while, life went back to normal. There were classes and there were exams, homework and daily study calls with Yamaguchi. And then there was Kuroo.

If there was one good thing about wearing his scent mark on what seemed to be permanent basis now, it was the alpha population at school finally leaving Kei alone. Even the rumour mill eventually died, writing his earlier refusals off as pining. To which Kei just rolled his eyes. Whatever made them sleep easier at night, he supposed.

If there was a bad thing, it was that Akiteru would not fucking let it go.

“I want to meet that Kuroo of yours,” he said, perched on a kitchen chair. He’d come home for dinner that night, their mother cooking up a storm to celebrate the end of school term and heaven knows what else. Maybe the fact that she’ll have the house all to herself once Kei left for another training camp tomorrow and their dad for another business trip to Kyoto. Kei couldn’t blame her.

“I know,” he told his brother. He’d ignored the flutter of _something_ at the word yours. Like he had been doing for a while now. Maybe practice really did make perfect.

“So, when can I?”

Kei smiled and popped another strawberry into his mouth. Akiteru had brought a bunch. “Never.”

Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why? Are you hiding something? Is _he_ hiding something? You know you can tell me anything, Kei.”

Kei knew he could. Just as he knew Kuroo could and would charm his brother into sharing embarrassing stories. _With pictures._

He did not say that out loud, of course.

“Akiteru,” their mother reprimanded softly, shaking her head a little. “Don’t tease your brother. If he needs time, let him have it.” At Kei’s pleased smirk, well-hidden from their mother, Akiteru stuck out his tongue. Which their mother did see, but only sighed. “Now, off you two go. Dinner will be ready in an hour so if you want to play ball, now’s your chance.”

“Yes, mom,” they chorused, shuffling out of the kitchen, Akiteru pausing to kiss their mother on the cheek.

Kei made the grave mistake of thinking he was off the hook when, “And, Kei, honey? No pressure but we do want to meet him eventually. Preferably before you decide to elope.”

With a perfectly blank face, Kei took out his phone and texted Yamaguchi asking if his family could adopt him.

To which Yamaguchi just laughed.

_Traitors, all of them._

 

-

 

(It was only when Kei was already in bed, half-asleep, that he realised how easily he could picture Kuroo in his future.)

 

-

 

Saitama was even more hot and more humid than Tokyo. Sadly, that did not deter Bokuto in the slightest. Once the matches were over for the day and they all were dismissed to mingle and practice individually, he’d unleashed the most unfair of expressions until it was agreed they’ll meet at one of Shinzen’s smaller gyms and practice until dinner.

Kei, sadly, had expected as much. Kuroo just patted him on the shoulder.

It wasn’t bad though. Sure, he was sweaty and tired, but every successful block against Bokuto left him feeling just a little smug.

Naturally, Bokuto noticed. “I see we now have two demonic cats instead of one.”

Kuroo grinned wide and Cheshire-like. “Please take care of us.”

“Oh, I will.”

“You will try.”

“I will succeed.”

Kei turned to Akaashi’s blank face, far too familiar with the situation by now. “Should we leave then?”

“I’m ready if you are.”

They didn’t go far. Akaashi motioned him to the couple of benches just a little off the path to the gym, where they would be seen if looked for but not heard. Knowing Kuroo and Bokuto, it would take them some time to stop bickering and put away the equipment. Especially if they decided to have another mop fight.

Which suited Kei just fine at the moment.

It was a balmy summer night, the sky clear and starless. Occasional shouts from whoever was still training were muffled, distant. He felt wondrously at peace.

“Akaashi-san, does it ever bother you when people refer to you as Bokuto’s? As owned?”

He hadn’t planned on asking that, but lately, there was this feeling in his chest, a nervous rattle that threatened his composure and his sanity. If anyone could explain, he figured it would be Akaashi.

“Is that how you feel? Owned?”

No, he didn’t. At least not in the sense he had always feared. And that was exactly the problem.

He shrugged dismissively, unable to put it into words.

But Akaashi seemed to understand. He uncapped his water battle slowly, thinking the question over. Took a few sips before answering. “My family is very traditional, in that they still believe in arranged matings. Not necessarily for their own social gain, though that is an appreciated bonus, but to secure my future and place in society. They already have a list of potential mates for me to choose from, once I’m ready.”

Kei was familiar with the concept. While it wasn’t as common as it had been even some ten years ago, some households still practiced it. Mostly those belonging to the upper social classes.

“Bokuto-san plans to go pro. In my parents’ world, that path is as far from stable as you can get. They know about him, of course.” Kei imagined it was hard not to when his strong summery scent was all over their son. “But as long as there is nothing permanent binding us, they are… tolerant, I suppose. Because they believe I will eventually do what they think is best for me.”

At Kei’s sceptical look, the corners of Akaashi’s mouth curled upwards in a tiny self-satisfied smirk.

“It’s better this way. I’m still a minor, and until I graduate from high school, there is very little I can do to support myself financially, if worst comes to worst. I don’t think it will, because my parents are rational people, but for now, this is the safest option.”

“They don’t know about the bond, then.”

The flash of something pleasant in Akaashi’s scent was impossible to miss. “He’d asked me to bite him right after I told him he couldn’t do the same to me. He made it sound _so_ _simple_. And it was.”

Once, before he’d really known either of them, Kei had wondered what had attracted such opposites as Bokuto and Akaashi. Kuroo being Kuroo sometimes joked it was black magic and human sacrifices, just to rile Bokuto up. But Kei could see it now, in the peaceful lines of Akaashi’s features and the impossibly fond tone of his voice.

And there was the answer to his earlier question—Akaashi was not bothered by the idea of belonging, he took comfort in it instead.

Kei mulled the idea over in his head, twisted and turned it this way and that.

“If being claimed makes you feel good, why feel bad about it?” Akaashi said softly, sharp hooded eyes seeing right through Kei. “It’s your relationship. You decide how it works.”

“How did you—”

Akaashi snorted. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, too.”

So had Kei. Still, he made a face. “I don’t think you have any room to talk, Akaashi-san.”

“Touché.” Almost languidly, lazily, Akaashi stretched his arms behind his back. Then conversationally and a few notes louder, he said, “Kuroo-san, if you even think about pouring that on me, I will hurt you.”

Kei turned around just in time to catch Kuroo in the act of backing away, plastic cup in hand, poised to strike. “So scary, Akaashi-kun!”

Bokuto’s laugh could not be described as anything other than boastful. “Told you Akaashi’s too good!” Casually, completely unselfconscious, he draped himself over Akaashi’s shoulders, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

“Did you close up the gym?”

“Mhm.”

Satisfied with that answer, Akaashi let himself be pulled up and steered towards the main building, tucked lovingly under Bokuto’s arm.

Kei made no move to do the same. Surprisingly except not really, Kuroo stayed too.

 

-

 

(Once again, his hand was right there, mere inches away.

Only this time, Kei reached for it.

And felt eternally grateful when Kuroo didn’t say anything—he simply squeezed Kei’s hand tighter and took the seat Akaashi had vacated.)

 

-

 

“Did you really think you could sneak up on him?”

“Nah,” Kuroo drawled. “But I needed to distract you. Me failing at something seemed like the kind of thing that would make you laugh.”

“You know me so well,” Kei agreed, only partially sarcastic. “But why such need in the first place?”

Instead of replying, Kuroo fidgeted in his seat, subtly arranging his limbs this way and that. Kei sighed, intentionally loudly, recognizing the signs. Wordlessly, he adjusted his legs into a more comfortable position, and waited.

Not for long.

With a cheeky grin splitting his face in half, Kuroo lowered his head onto Kei’s lap. He’d had to let go of Kei’s hand to do so, but as soon as he was settled and seemingly content, he’d grabbed it again, intertwining their fingers on his upper belly.

Kei’s heart skipped a beat.

The bench was far too small for this to be truly comfortable, yet Kuroo looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. Happy. Despite the fact that he must’ve been tired and hungry and willing to sell his soul for a shower. Kei certainly was all of those.

“Okay, so. Before you decide to kill me, please keep in mind that I am fully innocent.”

Almost of its own accord, Kei’s other hand buried itself in Kuroo’s messy hair, fingers combing through the soft strands, eliciting a moan. He had to suppress a smile of his own at that, even though Kuroo’s eyes had long fluttered closed. It was a quirk learned by accident, during one of their many train and bus rides together. A few scratches on the head could send Kuroo purring faster than a cat. “The fact that you’re specifically pointing it out says otherwise.”

Slowly, steadily, Kuroo was melting into the touch. Kei’s throat went dry.

“While you were stargazing with Akaashi, we were discovered. By Lev. Who is apparently all buddy-buddy with Karasuno’s shrimp now.”

Kuroo’s scent was stronger now, unrestrained. Mixing and mingling with Kei’s. And oh, he hadn’t even realised he’d been releasing his pheromones all over the place. Soothing, calming.

“So there they were, all bouncy and eager. And you know Bokuto. You know how weak he is in the face of excitement over volleyball.”

_Claiming in a way only an omega could._

“And then the tiny one expressed his admiration over Bokuto’s spikes. It was a total overkill, to be honest. Even if it was just sounds and weird noises.”

“He invited them to train with us, didn’t he.”

“Emphasis on the he. I was but a mere spectator. But if you want to kill him, I’ll be your perfect accomplice. Don’t listen to Yakkun. I am more than qualified for the job. Did you know there are chemical solutions that can make dead bodies simply disappear?”

When Kei said nothing for a while, Kuroo’s eyes flew open in alert. All amusement slowly draining away from his beautiful face. “Tsukki?”

“Kuroo-san, I think I’ve had it.” With a hand still in Kuroo’s hair, Kei pushed the bangs off his forehead. Gently, but firmly. “Ever since you’ve put your scent mark on me, I’ve been called yours by people I’ve never even met before.”

A flash of panic. “Tsu—"

“Let me finish, please.”

Obediently, Kuroo went silent. But his nervously worried bottom lip and the chilly edge to his scent did the talking for him.

“Obviously, you can’t control what they say. And frankly, I don’t even care. They don’t know me. You do. So, tell me, Kuroo-san, am I yours?”

The words came surprisingly easy.

Quietly, Kuroo rose up on his elbows. His soft exhale was felt rather than heard in the fragile space between them. But his voice was softer still. Kind, so impossibly kind. “I can’t answer that for you, Tsukki.”

“But I can,” Kei said. “And if I am yours…” Kuroo’s lips parted on a sharp inhale, eyes going dark and wide, and Kei had to remind himself to stay focused. To force the words past the lump in his throat. “…you, Kuroo-san, are mine. Equal exchange.”

He didn’t let himself think as he reached for the scent gland at the base of Kuroo’s neck. Traced it with his fingertips, felt it pulse against the touch. Then slowly, giving plenty of time to say no, he leaned down to put his mouth on it.

Kuroo’s low, breathy keen was answer enough.

Kei swirled the tip of his tongue around the gland, sucked on it gently, dared to graze it teasingly with his teeth. His could feel his own body respond and react, heat pooling low in his abdomen and neck throbbing with need.

His hands were trembling as he pulled back and cradled Kuroo’s face in them.

“Are you going to bite me?” Kuroo rasped, sounding just as breathless and far too eager at the prospect.

Kei ignored the zapping thrill that ran down his spine. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“How about tattooing your name somewhere visible on my skin? Or maybe just drawing it with a permanent marker, because needles.”

Kuroo’s smile was absolutely dopey. Kei had a feeling so was his. Pathetic didn’t even begin to cover this.

“I take everything I just said back.”

Kuroo had the audacity to bump their noses together, nuzzling. “Nope. Sorry. You said I’m yours. No take backs now. You’re stuck with me.”

None too gently, Kei tugged at the messed-up bed hair. Kuroo, the ridiculous creature that he was, took nothing but delight in it. Kei, equally ridiculous, made a mental note to explore that later. When his heart wasn’t threatening to burst out of his chest.

Which wasn’t going to be anytime soon, if Kuroo didn’t stop smiling like that.

“Hey, Tsukki?”

“Mm?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I’m really glad that you came to Nekoma.” Kei blinked, not having expected that. “Though, of course, even if you hadn’t, I’m positive I would’ve found you anyway. Fate, and all that.”

“And I’m positive you’re the biggest sap, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo merely laughed, knowing exactly what Kei meant.

After all, there had been no contradiction anywhere in that statement.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Isaac and Miria: They are characters from Baccano. Which I haven't watched/read. So I had to rely on a friend. Who hasn't watched/read it either. Bless Wikipedia. But, apparently, they are like Japanese Bonnie and Clyde. Who accidentally drank immortality elixir thinking it was wine. And didn't realise it until like 70 years later. Basically, relationship goals.
> 
> Next: epilogue and one last thing Kei needs to tackle. Man I can't believe this story is almost over. Without all of your comments and kudos and recommendations (looking at Adriana and Pinta rn) it probably would've taken me two years instead of two months to get to this point. So thank you all so much. I hope you enjoyed! And if you wanna talk kurotsuki to me, I'm usually screaming on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kirinokisu).  
>  


	5. All of our tomorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years later. Or, The Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for all of you lovely people who left kudos and comments and apparently recommended this fic to plenty of friends. You're the best. And I am forever grateful to every single one of you.
> 
> With super special mega thanks to Adri and Pinta, for endless love and support, and to jar, who had to suffer through me panicking when everything about this chapter seemed wrong. (Granted, it still feels wrong but at least I'm chill about it. Peace.)

Tsukishima Kei was nesting. Excessively.

"No," he said, though the words lacked the kind of finality he was looking for. He blamed it on the number of pillows and blankets he had surrounded himself with. They were warm and fluffy, and it was hard to resist drowning in them when his alpha was right there, close enough to touch. Kei persevered.

Tetsurou had no such qualms. Careful not to disturb the meticulous arrangement of all things soft and cosy, he curled around Kei from behind, placing his chin on top of a t-shirt covered shoulder. Waiting. _Knowing._

"Let me rephrase: absolutely not."

With his right hand around Kei’s middle, Tetsurou dangled a phone with photo-lit screen in front of Kei’s face with his left. "Just look at his face. Isn't it the cutest?"

"I have looked,” Kei replied, leaning back with a soft, pleased sigh. “The first ten times you've shown the photo to me."

"Maybe eleventh is the charm." With Tetsurou dressed in a neatly pressed dress shirt and a blood red tie, Kei had no doubt that he could, indeed, be charmed. Until he looked down at Tetsurou's _All of the good science puns Argon_ boxers and only one sock. Then he became certain he would be.

It was far, far too early in the morning for this. Even with the blinds partially closed and his glasses still in their case on the bedside table, Kei could tell that the sun was barely up, and that the day was promising to be bleary and gloomy. Just the thought of it had him pulling one of the blankets—the thickest one—higher up his lap. He wasn’t cold per se, but his body was craving the comfort, insisting on never leaving the nest. On keeping his alpha right there with him, cocooned in their mingled scents, far away from the rest of the world.

Which was ridiculous, of course.

As if reading his mind, Tetsurou dropped the phone in favour of draping both arms around Kei's waist, pulling him closer still. His breath ticked the short hairs on the nape of Kei’s neck as he nuzzled the skin with the tip of his nose. "We could go see them both next week."

Kei couldn't help the shudder, body reacting, inviting. He tilted his head to the side, baring his neck. Immediately, Tetsurou’s lips found the bite mark. "Or we could see whether we can handle one, first. Then think about another."

It really was unfair, that smile of Tetsurou's that he could feel stretching against his skin without even seeing it. Years together, and it still made him weak. And agreeable.

_How pathetic._

"It's you and me. There’s nothing we can't handle, babe."

"Except your level of sap." Kei thought about it, hard as it was with his body and senses focused on other things entirely. "And Bokuto-san after his team won Olympic gold."

Tetsurou winced at the memory—it had been quite an event. They stayed silent for a while, just like that, on their shitty bed with its cheap mattress and rumpled sheets, wrapped around each other. Kei’s eyes started to droop.

The clock on the wall ticked seven.

Reluctantly, with a sigh, Tetsurou pulled away. "You need anything before I go?"

 _You_ , Kei almost said. Then shook his head. Without anything holding him up, he fell back on the mountain of pillows. Almost out of instinct, he grabbed Tetsurou's and hugged it close. Still smelling of the alpha—of pine and berries and his citrusy shampoo, it was the next best thing.

Tetsurou did not comment on it as he dressed, knowing better. "I'll see if I can leave early today."

Having graduated a year prior, he had landed an entry level job at a major medical lab. And while his co-workers varied from stuck-up HR people in fancy suits to socially incompetent underappreciated geniuses with terrible sense of humour, his team manager at least was surprisingly understanding towards matters pertaining to heats and ruts.

Kei hummed into the pillow. He knew his body well enough to calculate it wouldn't hit until late in the evening and Tetsurou could most likely smell it too, but who was Kei to say no to such an offer. The hours before were always the worst, his body _craving_ and _needing_ but not yet ready. It was why he was skipping university today.

Fully dressed, Tetsurou leaned down to kiss him, chasing away any thoughts with the sweet taste of honey and lemon tea on his tongue. Then another, and another.

His hands skittered under Kei’s shirt, teasing. Kei had to hold onto whatever sense of responsibility he had left in that moment with teeth and nails.

"You're going to be late for work.”

"Mmm."

“ _Tetsurou.”_

It was that tone that had Tetsurou stopping in his tracks, swearing low under his breath as he took a step back. Kei could certainly sympathise.

Sometimes it still amazed him how affected Tetsurou was by his scent, and not just when in heat. Just as it never failed to sooth Kei’s own thoughts regarding the matter.

They weren’t always pretty.

Naturally, Tetsurou sensed the subtle shift in the mood. “Get some sleep,” he said. The look on his face was far, far too soft. But he wouldn’t be Tetsurou if he didn’t then add, “And when you wake up, hopefully slightly less grumpy, do give baby kitten number two another thought, mmkay? So that baby kitten number one isn’t lonely when we finally take her home.”

Kei had given it a thought, and not just one. “I am literally hours away from going into heat. Are kittens really what you want me to be thinking about?”

And so, the matter was dropped. For now.

 

-

 

(The thing was, Kei wasn’t bothered that he gave in so easily these days. And it was precisely the problem.)

 

-

 

Kei woke up a few hours later, groggy and thirsty. His head was pounding. His body felt sluggish and hot. Too hot.

For a moment, he just lay there, unmoving, unblinking. Normally, Tetsurou would be there. His face would be smushed between two pillows, his ridiculous hair all over the place. His arm would be somewhere on Kei’s chest, as if making sure he was still there. Then the alarm would go off and Kei would snort loudly at Tetsurou’s multiple attempts at getting up. Kei himself wouldn’t have to for a while yet, having few morning classes this semester. But they tried to make their schedules match and waking up early regardless had become as natural as everything else in Kei’s life. Because it was an effort worth making.

It hadn’t been easy, in the beginning. Tetsurou’s first year at university had them realising how much time together they had been granted simply by being in the same school, even if most of it had gone into volleyball. It had made them both too accustomed to such luxury. By Tetsurou’s second, they learned to make it work, with a lot of fumbling on both sides because by then, there had been _expectations,_ like meeting the family and talking about a future that included them both. And by third, they were on the same team again, in the same apartment, sharing the same space.

Now they had routines that Kei had never expected to take such comfort in.

But he did.

Watching half-asleep and barely dressed Tetsurou make breakfast in their tiny cramped kitchen with its stupidly loud fridge and truly ugly view from the window was the kind of thing that filled Kei with _something_ that still made his heart clench tight from time to time. And he would have to busy himself with making his own coffee and Tetsurou’s tea, in a futile attempt at controlling it. Only Tetsurou would notice and he would plant a loud kiss on Kei’s cheek and there would be no escaping anymore. Not when Tetsurou would smile, all rumpled and dazed and dear.

Fucking hell, he sounded like a school girl from shoujo manga.

Utterly disgusted with himself, Kei got up.

The apartment was dim and silent, the pitter-patter of rain against the living room window the only sound in it as Kei dragged himself to the kitchen. A loose floorboard, right next to a dining chair, creaked loudly beneath his feet, the way it always did. Kei merely clicked his tongue in annoyance, the way he always did, and reached for Tetsurou’s hoodie that was thrown carelessly over the back of the chair.

Then stopped.

There, on the table, lay a foil-covered plate. On it was a bright yellow post-it note:

_Eat me. All of me._

At the bottom was a grinning cat face that was probably aiming to be a Cheshire but looked more like a product of a five-year-old with limited art skills.

As Kei moved to put the coffeemaker on, he had to thank whatever force was in charge of the universe that Tetsurou had not been there to witness his undoubtedly embarrassing expression. Even if the alpha was much, much worse. Sometimes he still looked at Kei like he couldn’t believe it was real and happening and true. Kei couldn’t blame him.

But at least they managed to tone it down in public, unlike certain people they had the misfortune of calling friends.

Two strong cups of coffee and one empty plate later, he felt marginally more alive. But still thankful when his phone rang somewhere in the living room, relieving him of facing the day for just a little longer.

“Kei!” Akiteru’s face was positively beaming on the smartphone screen.

Sitting down on the lumpy sofa, Kei pulled the snatched hoodie tighter around himself. He felt simultaneously too hot and too comforted with Tetsurou’s scent still clinging to the thick soft fabric. “Oh, it’s the traitor.”

Akiteru laughed. “Still not letting that one go?”

“You tied the Tsukishima family to the Tanaka family. I am never letting it go.”

That one had been unexpected. He’d known when his brother had started dating someone seriously—hard not to, when Akiteru couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. When the awkward but necessary meeting-the-future-in-laws dinner happened at last, Kei even enjoyed Tanaka Saeko’s company. Particularly her brand of teasing her fiancé.

Until a few months later, during one of many wedding preparation events he was forced to attend as the best man, he’d found out who her little brother was. Tragically, also a best man. Was it not enough that Kei had learned to work with Haiba during their third year? And to tolerate Yaku’s hyper-active boyfriend from Karasuno?

Tetsurou had laughed his ass off when Kei voiced those questions out loud and Kei had to eventually shut him up with less than fair tactics. Whatever worked.

Akiteru, though, was still not forgiven. Even if he was now happily married and well into his honeymoon somewhere in Korea. “We went to see the Cheonjiyeon Waterfall yesterday. It was magical, Kei!”

As his brother described the beauty and nature of Jeju island, gesticulating wildly in excitement to the point where he’d almost smacked his tablet a few times, Kei settled into a more comfortable position, pulling his knees up and resting his chin on them.

That, too, was a routine now. Akiteru never went longer than a week without calling. Kei never failed to answer.

“What’s got you looking so solemn and grown-up?”

Kei shrugged, not willing to go into the details. “Hormones.”

Maybe he should have, seeing as his brother gasped dramatically and said, “Are you _pregnant_?”

“Nii-chan, what the fuck.”

“Because if you are…”

“I’m _not._ ”

“Are you sure? Do I need to talk to that alpha of yours?”

“What you need to do is stop talking.”

Akiteru sighed heavily. This was not the first time he’d tried to initiate this conversation, much to Kei’s horror. Last time Tetsurou was present, too. After which they had wordlessly agreed to pretend it never happened. “Kei, it’s nothing to be—”

“If you give me the baby talk, I will hang up and never talk to you again.”

“I just want you to—”

“Goodbye, nii-chan.”

Kei did hang up then, but knew he’d pick up the phone next time his brother’s name flashed on the screen.

Because this was his life now, apparently.

With all of his university assignments finished, and therefore lacking a substantial excuse, Kei was forced to face the issue of the few unpacked boxes they had absolutely not hidden away behind the sofa just to avoid seeing them. It was mostly books and movies and sentimental trinkets, so it wasn’t like they had needed them right away.

But it had been almost over a month since they’d moved in from their shitty first apartment. This one was only slightly less so, but at least the hot water was always working and the neighbours did not have cheap-porn kind of loud sex at three in the morning every other weekend.

Their new neighbour was a badass looking old lady who liked to call Kei a good boy and pinch him on the cheeks whenever they crossed paths, so the jury was still out on that one. But she did do the same thing to Yaku, once, which made the odds tilt slightly in her favour. Or a lot. His expression had been priceless.

She also made best double chocolate chip cookies that she didn’t mind sharing.

Realising he was procrastinating again, Kei put on some music and got to work. He made his way through old textbooks and encyclopaedias, both Tetsurou’s and his, a pile of old essays that should probably go to the trash, an entire collection of Star Wars and some ancient Gundam DVDs because Tetsurou had always been a nerd, a few random volumes of manga and an almost finished pack of cat-shaped post-its.

The last one was a memento from those initial days when the stress from moving in together was overshadowed by clashing university schedules and part-time jobs that had them missing each other even on weekends. Until one day Kei had come home to a multitude of bright messages plastered all over their apartment. It hadn’t quenched the need for an actual moment together, but it did make the situation slightly more bearable and therefore had only escalated from there. It was Kei who’d picked this particular pack from a bookstore one lonely afternoon.

 

At the very bottom of the last box, he’d found an old group photo of Nekoma, the very first one he’d been forced into. He’d found out much later that Tetsurou had framed it all those years ago. He’d even written out the date on the back. It was utterly cheesy, and Kei never stopped rolling his eyes at it, but he also hadn’t made a single attempt at taking it down from its usual place on one of the bookshelves. Exactly where he put it now.

 

-

 

(In his mind, he could already picture Tetsurou’s goofy grin once he saw the picture. It was why Kei put it back in the first place.

And maybe it wasn’t a problem after all. To do things just for that smile, and to have Tetsurou know it. Embarrassing, often mortifyingly so, but _okay_.

Certainly something he could live happily with.)

 

-

 

Tetsurou did come home early, just after three in the afternoon instead of the usual five. Kei had already crawled back to bed by then, body hot and shivering with need. His headache had gotten ten times worse before it went away at last.

“Hey,” Tetsurou said softly as he walked into the bedroom. “Did I wake you?”

Kei shook his head, then shifted slightly to his side of the bed in a wordless request. Some things he still couldn’t say out loud, not even to his mate.

Tetsurou’s tie was already crooked and loose, but he shrugged off his jacket, leaving it uncharacteristically carelessly right there on the fluffy rug, then sat down on the bed. He waved the plastic bag in his hands. “I brought food.”

With effort, Kei sat up, while Tetsurou took out multiple take-out containers and broke off chopsticks, offering one pair to Kei. At the smell of food, Kei’s body reacted with its usual pang of pre-heat hunger, vicious and deep. Obstinately, he ate even slower than usual, swirling rice noodles with his chopsticks between bites.

They didn’t talk, because right then it was too much effort. This close, Kei could see the tension in Tetsurou’s posture, the occasional subtle flare of his nostrils and the blown pupils that made his eyes look darker, fiercer. He wasn’t in rut yet, but the room was permeated with thick, heavy pheromones and it wouldn’t be long now, for either of them.

Kei focused on the sound of rain beating hard against the window, the soothing dimness of the room—they hadn’t bothered with lights.

Finished with their food, Tetsurou went to take away leftovers and trash. Kei heard water running in the kitchen but didn’t ease back under the blankets until Tetsurou came back. This time, the alpha stripped off his pants and dress shirt and socks before joining Kei. With a tiny, sympathetic smile, he took off Kei’s glasses and put them carefully on the bedside table. Then finally, he laid down.

His scent enveloped Kei like a hug.

Needing more contact, he cuddled into the space under Tetsurou’s arm, pillowing his head on the broad naked chest. In that moment, it was the only place he wanted to be.

Tetsurou placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Then, he started talking.

Mostly about nothing at all. He ranted about his work day and his co-workers, laughed about the most recent disaster caused by an intern in one of the labs, wondered about the new development in Bokuto’s epic plan to propose.

Kei merely listened, feeling warm and safe and settled. Even with slick making an uncomfortable mess out of his underwear, body heating with each passing moment.

But his alpha was right there.

And when it finally hit, Kei was ready.

“ _Tetsu,”_ he breathed, voice breaking on a moan. He was burning again, shaking, shivering like an addict. He wanted—he needed—

His mate’s hands were on him, all around, soft and smooth, touching reverently, raising him up so easily, until he was straddling Tetsurou and leaning down to kiss him, long and deep and desperate.

The hands glided up his arms, curled around his neck, tangled in the short damp hairs there, pulling Kei closer, closer. He went willingly, obediently, every part of him pressing against Tetsurou, craving the touch, the smell, the heat.

His hips had begun rocking slowly, leaving wet sticky trails on Tetsurou’s thighs.

Their clothes were a nuisance.

Deeming it a priority, Kei made quick work of ridding them both of their remaining clothing. His uncooperative limbs got tangled in the sleeves of his shirt, but Tetsurou was on it, pushing the fabric up until Kei was free, until it was skin against skin, lips on lips and bodies tangled.

Kei was hard, so hard, aching, keening every time his cock brushed against Tetsurou’s, dripping slick on navy sheets. He wanted— _needed_ more.

“Kei,” the alpha said.

In the late evening gloom, his face was all angles and sharp lines. A bed of sweat tricked down his temple, and disappeared into inky mess of his hair. His full, red lips were parted, air escaping them in short heavy puffs. His eyes were completely taken over by black.

And under Kei’s palm, his heart beat an erratic, crazy rhythm.

In tune with Kei’s.

_Yes, this was exactly what he needed._

“Please.”

It took Kei time to get used to this. To let Tetsurou take control.

To understand that being pinned to the bed, baring his neck with a filthy moan, did not mean he was weak. That he was less.

Should he choose to, he could turn the tables, and take and take and _take_.

And Tetsurou would let him. Would enjoy it. Would moan and groan and whisper things that would make Kei see stars.

But right now, he chose this.

Tetsurou growled; a rough, possessive sound that shot straight to Kei’s cock, followed by blunt fingernails digging into his ass, leaving behind marks that no one would see. Kei arched into the touch. Tetsurou took it as a chance to trail wet, sloppy kisses down his neck, across his chest, to the hollow of his hipbone, and the inside of his thigh, where he left a bright red mark, then another, and another, before moving to the other side.

Two of his fingers had pushed into Kei, probing, stretching, making it so hard to fight the urge to touch himself—too soon, too empty, not yet, not enough.

“ _Tetsurou_.”

The alpha raised his head from the mess he was turning Kei’s leg into.

Wild and dark and beautiful.

_His._

Kei remembered how he’d used to wish he could lose his mind completely during heats, so he would forget being needy and pathetic and loud.

Now, though. Now he was glad that this image of Tetsurou could be seared into his memory. Because Tetsurou in a rut was a different beast entirely. Gone was the patience, the softness, the control. His shoulders seemed broader. His posture radiated power. His scent was overwhelming.

And Kei revelled in every moment of it.

"You're thinking too much." Even his voice was lower, huskier, sexier.

"Then you're not doing a very good job."

Tetsurou’s eyes flashed gold. Kei felt a shudder go through him.

"Turn around."

Kei did exactly as he was told, burying his face in a pillow and raising his ass high. Presenting for his alpha.

The low animalistic sound was the only warning he’d gotten before the thick blunt head of Tetsurou’s cock was pressing into him, pushing all the way, with enough force to leave Kei scrambling for purchase, twisting the sheets in his fingers.

He felt so wonderfully, gloriously full.

And then Tetsurou started to thrust, hard and fast and good. His arms had wound tight around Kei’s waist, holding him up and steady, each harsh move of his hips making it impossible for Kei to stay upright on his own.

He was close, so close.

Tetsurou knew it too, with how tight Kei was clenching around his cock, fucking himself eagerly on it. His thrusts went shallower, quicker, beginnings of a knot already catching on the rim.

He pulled Kei up like it was nothing, chest to back, skin to skin. And his mouth went straight to the mating mark on Kei’s neck.

When sharp canines finally pierced the flesh, Kei came with a soundless scream, head thrown back as the world went technicolour.

Tetsurou fucked him through it all, and a few moments or maybe an eternity later, he was spilling inside, the swell of his knot a pleasant burn that finally, finally eased the ache in Kei.

They stayed still, overwhelmed and desperate for oxygen, locked together. Until the sweat cooling on his skin made Kei shiver.

Carefully, Tetsurou manoeuvred them back to where they started, cuddled close in the comfort of blankets and sheets. They had some time now. To simply lay there, in the fallen dark, basking in each other’s presence. Sharing the warmth. Listening to the rain and the slowly calming breaths.

Tetsurou held him close in his strong arms, nuzzling lovingly against the fresh bite. Later, Kei would bite him back. For now, he was sated and happy and loved.

"What are you thinking about?" Tetsurou asked, in a voice that was as lazy and content as he. His hand stroked soothing circles into Kei's belly.

"Once my heat is over... Maybe we could go see those kittens of yours."

Tetsurou’s arms tightened against him imperceptibly. But Kei had felt it nonetheless. As he did the smile against his neck. "Both of them?"

"Yes."

"...three?"

"Keep pushing it and I'll get a dog."

"But we will get a dog,” Tetsurou protested. “One day. In the future.”

Yes, one day. For now, they would start small. And take it one step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this is it. Oh man. What the hell. How did this happen? (It certainly wouldn't have without the overwhelming support. Like what the hell. I don't deserve.) Thank you all so, so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this long-ass journey!
> 
> But this is not, in fact, the end. I do need a break from this verse, mostly to work on some other wips, but as some of you have noticed, I do have plans for more. There is still the bokuaka side of the story, and some other extras that are mostly undecided. So if there is anything you'd like to see (especially from Kuroo's POV), let me know in the comments! I might get inspired.
> 
> And feel free to scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kirinokisu) 'cause that's where I do most of my writing related whining.


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